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@thesecretlifeofmo
Me, age 10, doing an essay on the pharaoh’s curse for school: huh. So this archeologist that died and everyone thought it was because he disturbed the pharaoh’s tomb actually died because he used a rusty razor to shave and it infected a mosquito bite. I can see how people could come to that conclusion, but it is a bit silly
Me, today, shaving my mosquito bite-ridden legs: I must tread carefully lest I incur the pharaoh’s wrath
I am a 27 year old electrical engineer who works in a little secret lab in the middle of buttfuck Egypt. For one two month period, the office supply order changed from normal erasers to these, and I will not lie - every time I thought I was alone, I would sneak one out of my desk and eat it. They looked delicious. Tasted mid, but the appearance was so stunning that my brain just kept thinking, surely, the rest were a fluke, but THIS TIME it will taste like fruit and sugar.
Anyway, eventually the order stopped, and I was very worried that somehow, they’d found out that I was eating their erasers. So I kind of casually brought it up to my manager that I was sad that they swapped the erasers out, and he was like “yeah, but I kept eating them so they couldn’t stay.”
Anyway, eventually the order stopped, and I was very worried that somehow, they’d found out that I was eating their erasers. So I kind of casually brought it up to my manager that I was sad that they swapped the erasers out, and he was like “yeah, but I kept eating them so they couldn’t stay.”
dragons
DRAGONS LOCATED
Why are so many kids so reactionary?
because they're young and have a lot of passion and confidence without the experience or opportunity to develop more nuance to their opinions, with condescending adults who should know better making them feel like they have to dig in their heels—not to mention, sometimes, other adults who like the reactionary politics being espoused offering sincere support and discouraging the acceptance of conflicting viewpoints.
also, like, hey, while there are obviously teenagers who have done incredible work as activists, as a general young people just aren't going to be offering up the sharpest takes in the world because there is, again, a general lack of the experience and perspective generally necessary to facilitate any kind of mature discourse. like when I was 18 I was passionately arguing about how Marvel movies were More Feminist(TM) than DC movies because, you know, I thought that mattered literally at all.
This is why you should listen when kids start having discourse and add to it, but add to it as if you are having the discussion with an adult.
Like yeah, ok, you think this author is a shitty person why? Ok because they expressed support for harmful stereotypes or caricatures in their work. Well, what’s the genre and why do you think this is the genre. Do you think this could be satire or an allegory or an extended metaphor? Was this way of thinking common during their time and did this influence them?
Have discussions with kids without being condescending to them. Encourage them to think critically about what they are saying. Please
it's so easy to do! when I'm teaching my 4th-6th graders in their development & sex ed class a lot of them come in with piping hot takes, because they're old enough to have those, but most of them are also really open-minded and willing to change their minds when instructors talk to them like people capable of reasoning. sure, some stuff needs to be explained in broader, easier terms, but I promise they can handle big ideas.
If you can’t find a place on your blog for Patrick Stewart in a bathtub dressed like a lobster, then your blog probably doesn’t deserve such majesty anyway.
It has returned to my dash and I cannot fight the compulsion to reblog…
the patrick lobster appears only once in a thousand years, reblog for good luck
FWB
Part 9 Logan Howlett x fem!reader Series masterlist
a week ago
The days blur together. All he knows is that he’s drinking too much. He’s no longer keeping track of where he is, or what time it is, or how much alcohol he’s had. He’s not even keeping track of the women he hooks up with. He doesn’t care. He’s trying to drown, be it in a river of his unshed tears or in the hundreds of whiskeys he drinks. Either way, he just needs it all to disappear.
One night, he’s sitting at a bar, chatting up some girl whose name he can’t even remember. And as she talks and talks and talks, Logan finds himself thinking of you.
You and your gorgeous eyes. You and your sweet words. You and your brilliant mind. And this girl…she’s nothing compared to you. None of the girls he’s ever been with compare to you. Not even Jean.
Yes, he loved Jean. Yes, he admired her. Yes, he cared for her. But you? You’re just…unique. There’s something about you, a certain essence that no one else posseses. It’s like you and him were made to fit together; two pieces of the same puzzle.
And this woman is talking and talking and talking and Logan remembers your laugh, the scent of your skin, the taste of your lips, the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the arch of your back, the little snores when you were asleep…
What am I fucking doing?
He springs up from his high chair at the bar and the woman pauses.
“Are you okay?” she asks, eyeing him.
In his drunken state, Logan shakes his head and slurs out, “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to get back to my girl,” he replies and stumbles towards the exit.
The night is cool and dark and lonely, but Logan doesn’t notice that. He doesn’t notice how he almost falls a hundred times or how he gets lost half as many times. All that’s in his head is you. You, you, you. He has to get back to you. He has to.
What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was he doing? He just…walked out on you. He’s a fucking idiot.
“Well, that ain’t new,” he mumbles at himself as he finally sees the mansion in the distance. God, how long has he been out here, wandering the streets like a lost dog? It’s gotta be at least two, three in the morning.
You’re probably asleep. He can picture you lying in your bed, eyes shut, lips parted slightly, your hair all over your pillow…
He stands at the front door for ages, his hand on the doorknob, his heart in his throat.
He feels nervous, scared, disgusted with himself. How is he supposed to face you tomorrow morning? How is he going to look you in the eyes and ask for forgiveness after what he’s done?
He considers leaving again, but, fuck, he just needs you so bad. And not in a physical, I need her for sex kind of way. He needs to sit down and talk with you, needs to hear about your day, needs to smell your hair right after you’re out of the shower, needs to feel your hand in his while he drives you two somewhere for date night. He needs to love you, like he needs air. In fact, he may need it more than he needs air. At least that’s what it feels like.
Scared that he’ll run into someone else who might be up, Logan decides to take the kitchen door. He pushes it open silently and slips inside, as nervous as a little kid who just broke an expensive vase.
He’s had enough to drink, but he figures a beer won’t do him any harm. So, he heads to the fridge and takes out a can of beer. He’s just opened it when he hears it. Footsteps. Soft, measured. And then, the scent of you, the sound of your heart beating.
Everything in him stops, his blood seems to turn to sludge and time slows. A little smile threatens to show on his lips, but he’s not sure he’s in a position to smile at you. “You’re always too loud, never did learn to calm your heartbeat. I heard you a mile away.”
You peek out from around the corner, frowning as you take in his appearance. “Lo?”
God, he missed that. The way you’d say his name, the little nickname that makes him feel like he’s human and not some monster. He sees the way you look at him, though, the way you study his messy hair and long beard. Yeah, he hasn’t been taking care of himself, lately. Life’s been hell without you. And he wants to say that to you. But he doesn’t. He just takes a sip of beer to wash down the words.
You cross your arms. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just fucking walk in here whenever you damn well feel like it. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Where are the others?” Logan asks, trying not to think about your words. What’s wrong with you?
I don’t know, he wants to scream. I don’t know. But maybe if I’m by your side, I’ll be okay.
“Working,” you tell him and he sees you put a little switchblade away.
He imagines you all alone here in the night, defenseless. They left you all alone? Left you to take care of the kids and the mansion while they all left on a mission? His blood boils. No, he realizes. They didn’t leave her alone. I did. I’m supposed to be here.
“Lotta good that would’ve done you,” he says sarcastically about the little blade, angry at himself. He was out drinking while you were here alone, defenseless. He’s an idiot.
“Where the fuck even were you? You’ve been gone for, like, a week,” you accuse and he griamces slightly.
“I just…needed to clear my head,” he says quietly. But the memories of the alcohol, the women the leaving so he doesn’t have to face the consequences comes to mind.
He sees the look in your eyes and he remembers that you can hear his thoughts. “I see,” you say in a broken voice as you cross your arms.
Immediately, he tries to make ammends. “No, bub, look—”
“Don’t you bub me,” you snap and he shuts up. You think you can just treat me like that? Fuck me and disappear without a word? You didn't even leave me a fucking note!”
And, God, you’re right. You’re so right. He left without even saying goodbye. You’re right, but he needs to make this okay. “No, listen to me—” he tries again.
You scoff and laugh humorlessly. “There’s nothing to listen to, Logan, because there's nothing you can say to make this better. I don't need any more of your bullshit. I'm done.”
And that’s it. His entire world crumbles then and there. He could swear he feels his heart stop, his lungs refuse to take another breath, his brain unable to process your words. Those two words hit him with enough force that he feels almost instantly sober. “What?” he asks, his voice trembling. He’s never heard his voice tremble before.
“I’m done. Fucking done.”
One of the kids shows up then and interrupts, but Logan is too far gone to care.
Done.
He lost you, just like he thought he would, and by trying to avoid that, he achieved it anyway.
He feels like he might throw up, like he might cry. He wants to break every window in the mansion and destroy every curtain and tear the furniture to pieces and yell and punch and kick and destroy until he’s too tired to do anything but lay there in his sorrow.
Instead, he just remains where he is, frozen, as you turn to take the kid back to bed.
And just before you leave the room, you glance back at him. And that’s the last straw.
He sees the pain in your eyes, the heartbreak. Where he once saw adoration and trust and care, he’s now seeing hate and pain and disappointment.
He was so scared of losing you, that in everything he did to avoid it happening, he only led to its realization.
---
Taglist
@nerrivm @rosiahills22 @d3vils-adv0c8 @thychuvaluswife @18lkpeters @daddy333 @e-nonsense @ch3rryblossms @ayamenimthiriel @thesecretlifeofmo @simming4sims @raideaters-blog @1cam8 @angelicbbsblog @giuliahowlett @lemonsquaredd @meadow-field @secretpandaconnoisseur @givenoutlaw @wunder-blunder @aredheadednerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @insanesociopath @m1cky-y-y @fictional-hooman @ion-even-know @znerac @steviebbboi @insanesosciopath @reidsworld @arrozconpepitoria @meadow-field @sir-thisisadndserver @wolviesgirl @rooroen @tezooks @nervousmumbling @sowhatariyana @mikyapixie @breezeybre @andmuzzlethat @takeyour-pants-off @manifester3 @ddwnghead
*if you wanna be added to the taglist, let me know 💛
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Blog masterlist
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FWB
Part 8 Logan Howlett x fem!reader Series masterlist
two weeks ago
He’d run away. He’d disappeared. He’d turned his back on what scared him and he’d left.
He’d left you. There, in his bed, alone. He knew you’d probably wake up confused, unsure. You’d look for him, you’d call him. But he’d turned his phone off, he’d left no note, and he had absolutely no intention of going back.
It’s best if I just disappear, he convinces himself. It’s best if I’m not in her life. She’s better off…
He repeats that to himself, over and over again, until no amount of emotion could make him doubt it or wish it away.
But he misses you. Misses the scent of you, the way you’d look at him with eyes full of warmth, the way you’d bite down on his shoulder when he fucked you hard, the way your body fit against his while you cuddled. He misses everything about you, and it hurts. So bad.
So he drowns it in alcohol, wills the world away.
He’s not exactly sure how or when or why he returns to the mansion. He just finds himself there again, standing in front of your bedroom door, his cock already hard just from the thought of fucking you.
He needs you so bad.
I’m not good for her. I should leave her be.
But, fuck, he can’t. He really, really wishes he was a better man. But he’s not.
He bursts into your room, throws the door open and barges in just like he did in the beginning, just like his entire life has been. Him just barging in everywhere he’s not welcome, everywhere he hasn’t been invited, everywhere he doesn’t belong. Still, he does it and then he stays until he’s pushed past his welcome.
Your sweet eyes find his and they light up. “Lo,” you say, and his resolve almost crumbles, his lust almost gives way to his heart. Almost. “Where’d you go? I woke up and—”
“Yeah, I know,” he cuts in, shutting the door after himself. And I wasn’t there. And you were alone. And you realized you deserve better. And I know you’ll figure it out eventually. But, God, please, let me have one last moment with you. Please.
It doesn’t take much convincing to get you into bed. In fact, it doesn’t take any convincing at all. You pretty thing, always so willing for him. He refuses to believe that you like him or, worse, that you love him. He tells himself he’s just good in bed, enough that you’re so enthusiastically giving yourself to him again.
He ends up flipping you over, pushing your pretty face into the pillows and pulling your ass up. He fucks you hard and relentless, mind spinning as your warm, wet cunt accepts him in.
I don’t deserve this.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips, as he tries to push his thoughts away and focus on you.
Your body jerks forward with every deep thrust he delivers, and he hopes he’s not hurting you. Although you keep whining and moaning, pretty pussy clenching around his cock, so he assumes you’re enjoying yourself.
I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her love. I don’t deserve to love her. She deserves better.
Every time his orgasm comes close, he can feel his guilt get the best of him, and it retracts him from the brink of pleasure.
“C’mon, c’mon!” he growls, willing his mind to shut the fuck up for a second so he can get his release before his conscience gets the better of him.
To his grand relief, his body seems to have had enough edging and his cock twitches in you, his thick load spurting into you and his mind goes into blissful blankness for a full minute.
But the second he comes down from his high, he realizes what he’s just done, realizes that he’s come back to you, realizes that he’s exposing you to the hurt and that he’s betraying Jean’s memory and everything comes crashing down on him until he feels like he can’t fucking breathe—
He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. It’s like he watches his body take control of his mind. He pulls out of you and leaves you there, on the bed, without you having finished too. He climbs off the bed and scrambles for his clothes, quickly pulling them back on.
You glance at him over your shoulder, those soft, innocent eyes full of confusion and uncertainty. “Logan?”
He almost flinches at the sound of his name on your lips. “Gotta go,” he manages, glancing at the floor, not wanting to see the disappointment in your expression. He doesn’t want to see how he hurts you.
A frown creases your eyebrows and he has the urge to kiss it away. But he holds back. “What?” you ask. “What are you talking about?”
I’m not good enough for you. Don’t you understand? You’re better off without me.
“I’m leaving,” he says, wishing he could offer more.
“Wh—? Is something wrong?”
He hates the way you sound so vulnerable, so unsure, the way he knows you’ll wonder if you messed up.
But it’s not you. It’s him. He just can’t tell you that.
He gives you a look and you fall silent, pulling the rumpled bed sheets up around your naked body.
“I’ll see you around,” he grumbles and heads for your bedroom door. It takes all his self-control to pull away from you, to leave and not run back, kneel at your feet, kiss your thighs and beg for your forgiveness.
She’s better off without me.
---
Taglist
@nerrivm @rosiahills22 @d3vils-adv0c8 @thychuvaluswife @18lkpeters @daddy333 @e-nonsense @ch3rryblossms @ayamenimthiriel @thesecretlifeofmo @simming4sims @raideaters-blog @1cam8 @angelicbbsblog @giuliahowlett @lemonsquaredd @meadow-field @secretpandaconnoisseur @givenoutlaw @wunder-blunder @aredheadednerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @insanesociopath @m1cky-y-y @fictional-hooman @ion-even-know @znerac @steviebbboi @insanesosciopath @reidsworld @arrozconpepitoria @meadow-field @sir-thisisadndserver @wolviesgirl @rooroen @tezooks @nervousmumbling @sowhatariyana @mikyapixie @breezeybre @andmuzzlethat @takeyour-pants-off @manifester3 @ddwnghead
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Blog masterlist
slim pickins
good graces | bed chem | busy woman
they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?
pairings: toxic!Satosugu x roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader
content: MDNI, angst and smut, roommate AU, heavy yearning and pining, satosugu are dicks, toxic relationship dynamics, reader getting revenge, jealousy, pettiness, unprotected piv sex, creampie, spanking, slight exhibitionism, threesome, oral (f! + m! receiving), backshots, cum play (sort of), fingering
a/n: this was very much inspired by beat your heart to death by the immensely incredibly talented @specialgradefckr !! divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!
Was Sukuna the right person for you?
Probably not. Okay, definitely not.
But still staring at the photo of him at the gym he'd sent you an hour later, moving boxes stacked around you on the floor of your bedroom while you listened to the quiet voices of Satoru and Suguru through the wall, you were more than a little tempted to act on it anyway. The veins bulging against his muscled arms, his compression shirt stretching across his chest.
Your roommates hadn't left Satoru's room in hours. Although, they'd barely been in it for the past two weeks. Constantly taking up space in the common areas, spread out on the couch or cooking in the kitchen every time you stepped out.
Whispering sometimes when you walked by, trying to smooth things over with fresh flowers on the kitchen counter and your favorite takeout when you got home from work. Sending you text messages like you weren't one room over, inviting you for late night movies and going out together like you used to. Declining only seemed to feed their desperation.
Still - there weren't any confessions of devotion. No 'I need you's or grovelling on their knees. The closest they came was Satoru slipping into the bathroom with you one night when you were washing your face, murmuring how much he missed you lately, turning you around and trying to place you up on the counter, his hands on your hips when he got down on his knees to try to eat you out. But you just mumbled an excuse about being too tired, hopping down and away before he could argue about it and returning to your room.
It was your last night before your new lease started tomorrow.
A more, uh, mature person would've had the whole moving out conversation, but you guessed a note and your empty room would suffice. Your trunk was already stuffed full of what you could fit, and you'd already paid movers to come pick up the rest of it when the guys would both be at work tomorrow.
Snipping carefully along the lines to cut them out of your life as neatly as possible, accepting the empty space that'd be left in your heart in their absence. But you couldn't help but think they'd cut themselves out first, intentionally or not, by never giving you the space you needed in theirs.
Suguru laughed at something - a low rumble bleeding through the wall, something you used to find soothing when you were snuggled next to his chest sitting down between him and Satoru. You weren't over him. Pretty sure you'd never be as long as he was always a few steps away. The same went for Satoru, a feeling that festered too long under the surface. But hurt and anger and frustration and bitterness all fought for the forefront of your attention while you existed around them, and your thumbs were typing before you could second guess the invitation you were sending.
They never considered you unless you were the one sharing their sheets - why should they get to have any sway in who was spending time in yours?
Why not go out with a bang?
Let Sukuna break your bed (or you) and let those stupid assholes be the ones overhearing you cry out someone else's name for once.
Pushing all the boxes against one wall as quietly as you could to make a clear path to the bed after he sent a short reply he'd be over soon, trading your pajamas in for a skimpy set of bra and panties before tugging up the smallest shorts you owned that could still pass as not trying too hard. Wiping away the slightly-smeared mascara under your eyes and remaking your bed as you tried to run through a mental checklist of what you were supposed to do when a guy came over despite the fact you never invited one here before.
All those times you'd try to be the perfect friend or roommate or fuck buddy, fill whatever role they wanted from you, just for it to be pointless in the end.
You could wallow and whine about it, but you just wanted to be fucking free.
Just now coming to terms with the fact it wasn't even all on them, but yourself too for letting them toy and twist you until you were the shape they wanted. The worst part was knowing how long you'd waited and wasted for something to be different when you knew you'd just end up disappointed.
Now you were stuck picking up the mangled up remains and trying to piece them into someone new.
Although, you weren't sure yet what a you without them would look like.
Knock.
The sound of knuckles pounded against the door a single time, but it was loud, ringing through the apartment.
Shit shit shit.
You were rummaging through one of the boxes on the top of the stack, shirts scribbled on the front in permanent marker to find a tank top to tug over your head and shove your arms through.
You almost tripped when you rammed your toe into corner of a different box, cursing under your breath as your fingers found the doorknob to roughly tear it open.
But someone else had already beat you to the front door, a broad body blocking your sight out of who was at the door.
"I'd appreciate it if you left," Suguru's curt voice cut through the silence. Calm. Collected. Cold.
"Don't think I will," Sukuna grunted back.
You padded down the hall, your hand pausing on Suguru's bicep long enough for you to pull him away enough to catch a peek of the man waiting for you on the other side.
"You done being a dick?" You huffed at your roommate, your hip bumping into his side as your attention settled back on Sukuna.
His hair was damp - a few strands glued down to his forehead like he showered before heading over, casually clad in jeans and a t-shirt, his dark eyes sweeping over you the same. His lips curled up in a smug smile while his gaze flickered between you and an irritated Suguru.
"Ignore him," You returned his smile, gesturing inside the apartment before you forced the door open wide enough for him to enter. "Come on in."
Sukuna hadn't made it a step in before Suguru's hand was touching your back, his voice murmuring in your ear. "Can we please talk about this?"
You took your own advice and pretended you didn't hear him.
Sukuna slung his arm loosely over your waist once he was close enough, a possessive hand planted on your ass as you turned to show him the way back to your bedroom. You could feel the eyes burning a hole in your back when his huge palm squeezed, your shorts riding up higher on your thighs, the fabric thin enough he could probably see the lace pattern of your panties through it.
"You usually walk around like this?" He had to lean down to your level, but even then he was still too tall for it to really be in your ear, his grunt was loud enough Suguru had to hear.
He wanted to know if you were wearing it for him or for them.
"Sometimes," You hm-ed, finding yourself naturally gravitating towards him until your arm was bumping into his, your nerves fluttering in your chest at him being so close again. "You like it?"
"Was gonna rip whatever you wore off you anyway," He answered, all gruff and unaffected, but there was something serious in his stare, like he actually meant it.
"Yeah?" You giggled, a small grin spreading across your lips automatically at how blunt he was.
You reached your door, pushing it open enough for him to fit inside first before quickly stepping in after him so you could shut and lock it before either of your roommates could try do something as stupid enough as following you in. Especially considering the current state of it.
"What's this?"
He looked handsome with his brows furrowed like that - his eyes narrowed as they scanned the room and roamed over the boxes and your scrawl on the side of them when he walked in.
You hesitantly cast a glance through the wall, not particularly wanting this bit to be overheard.
"I'm, um, moving. Got my own place," You quietly explained, nervously crossing your arms over your chest while you took a small step closer to him. "Tomorrow, actually."
His mouth quirked back up into the same smirk as before, a hand reaching out to grab your waist and pull you in until you were flush with his chest.
"Guess they don't know that?"
A dark glint flashed in his eyes, clearly amused at the mess of a situation you just roped him into, picking up the undertones in every pause and glance.
"Not exactly," You reluctantly admitted, biting your lip.
He chuckled, his almost shrewd stare sizing you up this time, reassessing whatever he thought of you.
He must have liked it, since it only took him three seconds before his hand slipped around to your back and his mouth landed back on your lips for a rough kiss. Walking forward until your back was hitting your mattress, the springs creaking underneath you while he climbed on top of you. Effortlessly caging you in with his much larger frame, the smell of his shampoo and the fain scent of soap replacing the cologne he'd worn before, but fuck, something about it was even better. You tossed your arms over his shoulders, one tracing the muscles of his back while the other played with his surprisingly soft hair. He huffed a little at the touch, the tenderness of it, but his body relaxed into it, his other hand cupping your face.
It felt massive like that, his calloused palm and searing touch only adding to the heat pooling hotter and burning brighter between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
The friction of the bulge barely contained in his jeans pressing down against your clit through your too-thin shorts was dizzying, gasping into his mouth right as his tongue forced its way in. Grinding against him naturally, rolling your hips up along his thick length and groaning when his lips moved down, messy kisses trailing across your jaw, sharp teeth skimming over the skin of your throat like they remembered what it felt like to sink in there, teasing you with the memory of it.
The hand on your face somehow ended up caught in your hair, roughly tugging at it to tilt your head to the side enough to give him better access to hungrily suck harsh spots down to your collarbone. His other hand was slipping in between the small space between your bodies, taking a breast in his firm grip and squeezing hard right as his canines scraped back against your sensitive skin, your moan unmuffled this time.
"S-shit," You stammered, blinking a few times as he readjusted his grip to pull you up to sit until you were straddling his lap again, supporting your weight with a warm hand on your back.
He was tearing your shirt over your head and tossing it away to hit one of the boxes with a soft rustle, making quick work of discarding your bra next, the cold air hitting your nipples making them harden before his tongue licked a clean stripe over one, his mouth latching on and sucking hard enough that you were gasping his name.
Tugging on his hair, fingers tangled in-between the fluffy strands and lost in the feeling of his tongue swirling around the bud while his cock throbbed against your clit, trying desperately to hold yourself together enough not to beg for it immediately.
"Pretty," He murmured into your skin, pulling off with a lewd pop! just to pinch your nipple between his sturdy fingers.
A compliment coming from him felt like it was worth a hundred.
Or maybe you were just so starved for affection and connection you needed it to mean something more.
He wasn't the type to accommodate your contemplation.
Flipping you into your back and getting off the bed to drag you to the end of it, sliding a finger underneath the band of your shorts to tug them down your thighs, pausing just long enough for his eyes to flick over you spread out on display for him before he made good on his word and tore your flimsy underwear off with one hand and no effort.
"Needy girl," He tch-ed, rough palms pulling your thighs apart and pinning them to the bed so he had full view of just how needy you really were.
"Just gonna stare?" You teased back, batting your lashes at him just for Sukuna to huff and roll his eyes back at you.
"Careful," He practically growled, his thumb tracing half a circle as it dug into the inside of your thigh, like he was testing how pliant you were for him. "Unless you really want me to shut you up."
"Go ahead and try," You hummed, an electric sort of excitement racing through your veins, all the little neurons in your brain firing as you tried to etch each scorching touch into your memory.
The sound of skin hitting skin reached your ears before you processed the sting against your cunt, the pleasure tinged with pain, all the air forced out of your lungs, the you sucked in not giving your lungs any oxygen.
The realization you actually sorta wanted him to do it again caught you off guard, staring up at him with wide eyes. His fingers started rubbing circles back over the sore bud, soothing the ache, your body responding to him before your mind fully caught up.
The familiar corner of his lip twitching up to replace his stern frown at your flustered silence.
"Anything else to say?" He dryly mocked.
"Again?" You requested, pushing your bottom lip out in a pout that made him scoff.
The next one was harsher, the pressure of the palm of his hand pressing down on your sensitive bundle of nerves making you yelp, but it was two of his thick fingers shoved inside and stretching you out that had his name falling from your mouth in a strangled gasp. The friction as he rubbed his hand down harder, dipping his fingers deeper had your head sinking back into the mattress, the old springs inside creaking with each pump.
"Fuck, th-that's, oh," You groaned, back molars grinding against each other as his fingers curled, crooking in just the right spot, an equally crooked smile on his face like he loved watching you fall into pieces with just a few strokes of his fingers.
"Still talking?" He cocked his head to the side, smug in an annoyingly attractive way, picking up the pace until you started to stutter his name again.
"K-Kuna," You whined, scrambling to claw at the sheets, hips pushing off the bed to meet his hand just for him to slip his fingers out.
Your weak whimper at his absence was embarrassing - lips pressed together in a tight frown as you tried to hold it back. But he hummed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head, the hand that had been holding your thigh down tracing a long line up your body until he ran his thumb over your lips, tugging it down so it was frozen in a surprised 'o' at how much softer his touch was than you anticipated.
It struck you that despite what he was saying, he wanted to hear you.
Or maybe what he really wanted was for the men next-door to hear you.
You nodded, a silent mutual understanding taking shape.
He chuckled, and his grip readjusted again, pulling you to the very edge of the bed and getting on his knees, his tongue diving in while your thighs tried to clamp down on his head. You freely moaned this time, delivering a pornstar worthy performance, pretty gasps of his name stammered out while he pressed his tongue flat, dragging his tastebuds over what felt like every piece of you.
The best part?
You didn't even have to pretend.
Not when every whimper and whine he ripped out of your throat was real. His mouth working wonders, rough licks and hungry sucks that only poured gasoline on the blinding need burning in the pit of your stomach, one you couldn't help but hope he'd throw a lit match on.
You knew it'd fizzle out once he was gone, but you wanted his warmth for a while. You knew you'd get burned, but it was better than the bitter cold you'd been living in for so long.
Sukuna pinned your thighs back to the bed, giving you a a small hum of approval at how pliant you were for him, letting him move you how he wanted so he could angle his tongue deeper before dragging it up to your clit, planting a rough kiss there, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud to suck.
And fuck, it was hard not to immediately snap, to not drop the act along with all your restraint and fall apart for him.
"C'mon, I know you wanna cum," He wryly commented, pulling back just enough so you could feel his warm breath over your slick skin. Your muscles tensed under his hands, your body giving him the answer your mouth couldn't form when you shivered at his deep voice and his calloused palms running over your soft thighs.
"G-god, fuck," You practically spit it out, biting down hard enough on your bottom lip to draw blood while his mouth returned to delivering open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive bundle of nerves, well-aware each one threatened to push you over the edge.
"Stop holding out on me, brat," He barked, but there was a hint of softness to how he spoke, not as abrasive or harsh as before, just enough to let you know he wasn't being an absolute asshole.
Then, the sharp edge of his canines just barely grazed over your clit before he rolled his tongue back over it and you were unraveling under the pressure, a white-hot wave of pleasure searing through to your core, a strangled moan escaping as his tongue worked you through it.
"K-kuna, please, fuck," You whined, your fingers tangling in his hair trying to pull him back up to you. "N-need you to fuck me."
Which, really, you did, but you also wanted them to hear you begging for him.
You felt his lips curve up first, still pressed against your skin before he readjusted, climbing over you to snag a pillow from the top of your bed before flipping you over and sliding it under your stomach to prop you up moremcomfortably.
His hand traced over your ass, lingering for a moment before he pulled back to spank you. It was deceptively loud, despite him not even smacking that hard, only a slight sting that was immediately soothed by a small kiss.
Clearly, he was trying to get a rise out of your roommates just as much as you were.
"You want me to wear a condom?" He offered as he stood, discarding his clothes piece by piece, tossing them next to yours on the floor.
And okay, yeah, you should've said yes.
But knowing who was listening one room over with their ears probably pressed against the wall, you couldn't help yourself.
"No," You murmured, just loud enough that they'd probably be able to hear. "Wanna feel you."
Sukuna chuckled, and then one hand was pressed against your neck while the other was splayed across the small of your back, holding it down into a pretty arch for him.
You glanced back over your shoulder at him, chewing on the inside of your cheek, wondering if you'd be overselling it if you said what you wanted to.
"I-I dunno if it'll fit," You stammered, pushing out your bottom lip in a pout you both knew was pretend, a laugh he could hardly hold in threatening to spill out.
"I'll make it."
Your own giggle was suppressed by his swollen tip nudged at your entrance, slowly splitting you open on his thick length, watching you stretch easily around him after his mouth prepared you so well for him.
Your breaths were broken, forced out in stutters, gasping and struggling not to groan with each inch he pushed in, the weight of his chest pressing down on your back as his fingers held you in place.
Burying himself inside you until he'd bottomed out, grunting as you instinctively jolted, whining his name as he kept you there, face down in the mattress as his cock twitched.
"C'mere," He huffed, his warm chest and carved muscles sinking into you, his breath dancing over your neck as he scattered lovebites, threatening to break the thin skin.
"I don't think I can get any closer," You sarcastically muttered, your voice muffled into the mattress.
He laughed again, dark and low, and it sent a sharp pang through your chest, something torn between unease and excitement.
"Oh?" Sukuna challenged, his hands readjusting so they were grabbing your wrists, pulling your hands free from where they were clawing at the sheets, pinning them over your head and settling his entire weight on your body. The new angle had you seeing stars, scrunching your eyes shut as his cock was shoved all the way in.
You waited for him to move, but he refused.
Grinding his tip against the spongy spot in the back, watching you wiggle and squirm underneath him, your lips sealed shut so you didn't have to admit you were wrong.
"How's this?" He taunted, and you couldn't even hate him because it was good.
Fucking fantastic, actually, but he'd have to fuck that information out of you.
"Fine." It was a whisper, a barely-audible squeak into the mattress.
"Gonna have to be louder than that if you want our audience to hear," He leaned down to mutter, his lips brushing over your ear.
"God, fuck, right there," You whimpered, moving so your voice wouldn't be obscured by the blankets or the bed, panting as he pulled out just to plunge back in.
"Good girl," He murmured, and a fluttering you weren't familiar with stirred up in your stomach, the pressure starting to return and build beneath it.
"Y-you're so fucking hot," You groaned, genuine this time, a little overwhelmed by your growing attraction to him, the way you were starting to realize you liked every little detail you picked up on, how he talked to you and how much fun you were having.
He didn't say anything to that - but from the small glimpse you could catch of him over your shoulder, you could see the flicker of surprise on his face.
"Mm' so close." You were. Startlingly so.
Every drag of his tip inside your cervix, the way his thumb was absentmindedly rubbing half-circled over your wrist and the heat of his body, it was all too much. Already sensitive from the first orgasm he pulled from you, the second one seemed like it was going to wash over you whether you tried to hold it back or not.
"Hold on a little longer for me?" He grunted, like he didn't want to pull out, like he wanted to draw this out for as long as possible.
"I'll try," You whimpered, but you were squeezing too tight around him, all the tension pulling tighter and tighter and tighter until- "Fuck."
You finished first, drowning in the feeling of him fucking you through it before you even realized he was filling you up, warm cum painting your insides the same white that you were seeing. Unwrapped and raw, your nerves burning and brain rewired by this new feeling, this new high, how readily he seemed to claim you.
"Shit," He spoke first. "Sorry."
How that somehow sounded more genuine than a single apology you'd ever received from the men next door struck you.
"Don't be," You murmured, flipping over to your front with a yawn. "I'm on birth control anyway."
"Yeah?" You felt his attention flicker, felt his eyes linger from where his cum was starting to drip down up to your fucked-out face.
"Yeah," You nodded.
You should stand up, get some clothes on and offer to let him stay the night. Or maybe suggest ordering some food. You didn't think he'd decline either. Not when he was studying you like he wanted to do it all again.
But then he picked up his jeans and checked his phone, and whatever he saw there made him frown.
"Fuckin' idiot," He grunted, glancing down at his phone before sighing and pulling up his boxers and jeans so he could shove it in his pocket. He hurried through getting dressed while you watched. "I gotta go get my brother."
"Oh," You mumbled, still dazed as you tried to stand and wobbled on your feet. He steadied your arm, his hand gripping too hard before abruptly relaxing, like maybe he wasn't used to holding someone like that, struggling to mind his strength.
"I'll call you."
You weren't sure why, but you sorta believed him.
"Okay," You nodded, blinking a few times as you started to pull a t-shirt over your head, forgoing a bra as you snagged a fresh pair of underwear from a box, cum still leaking on your thighs.
You didn't expect it when Sukuna got down on his knees and took the underwear from your hands, guiding your palm to rest on your shoulder for support so he could help you step into them, sliding them up your thighs and readjusting them on your hips.
"Word of advice?" He grunted, and all you could do was nod, speechless at the sight of him beneath you like that, how big he still seemed, his wide frame and muscles bulging under his shirt, the hard setting of his chiseled jaw. "Whatever they did to you, do it back to them."
You were still thinking about it and him after he left.
Pacing back and forth across your bedroom, wondering if he'd keep the ripped panties in his pocket, debating how dangerous it'd be for your heart to answer if he called. Glancing at the wall while you deliberated on how risky it'd be to step out of your room to get a drink and take a shower, if your roommates would be waiting, all the talking and laughing they'd been doing before replaced with silence now.
You rubbed the side of your neck, all your previously relaxed muscles starting to tense up again already, your attempts at massaging it doing shit to help while you walked into the kitchen. Yawning as you reached up to grab a glass from the cupboards while you did the awkward post-sex stumble over to the sink to fill it.
Scrunching your eyes shut for a moment, replaying the teasing and the teeth, the ghost of his touch on your skin before someone else's hand was on your shoulder, thumb digging into the muscle to massage it for you.
"Knock it off, Toru," You mumbled, rolling your shoulder back like it'd get him to quit, but the weight of his chest pressed into your back, his free hand landing on the other side of the counter to cage you in.
You were even sure what gave it away that it was him, maybe his cologne or just his presence alone.
"What, sweetheart? Don't tell me that guy actually satisfied you," He teased, an edge to his light voice you'd rarely heard.
"He did," You huffed back, his fingers freezing in place. "But that's not your business, is it?"
"It sorta is when it's under my roof," He sarcastically shot back.
Asshole.
"Yeah? So you guys can bring over whoever you wanna fuck and I can't?" You twisted around to face him, scrunching your face up in a scowl.
His signature smirk was still in place, like if it faltered for even a second, this whole stupid affair would splinter, and everything would come out.
"You've already got the best, why would you want anything else?" He pouted dramatically, the hand next to your waist inching closer.
"And you had me, but you always wanted someone else so," You shrugged, your voice coming out colder than you expected, a hint of hurt betraying you.
He flinched.
A barely there twitch of his brow, a blink you almost missed, his pupils too-wide, only a thin sliver of blue showing as he stared.
"Don't worry," You clenched your jaw, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I won't invite him here anymore."
You'd invite him to your new place.
"I mean, c'mon, baby, don't we do our best to take care you?"
You were pretty sure your heart stopped. Stomach sinking at the not-subtle way he emphasized the we. The faint footsteps that had paused on the opposite end of the counter, Satoru refusing to step away even in Suguru's company.
He knew. They both knew. Maybe always had.
You were just the oblivious one.
Caught between the two of them while they played pretend and acted like this was normal, natural.
"Sounds like she's feeling a little left out, huh?" Suguru's honeyed hum wasn't so soothing, no, it sliced through you, cutting through the hurt until there was just anger left.
Sukuna's sly suggestion was still ringing in your ears as Satoru stepped forward and his hand skimmed from your waist down to your hip to hold you where he wanted you before you could slip out of his grasp again.
Do it back to them.
It wasn't a terrible idea.
Moving out wasn't enough - not when they still hadn't gotten a proper taste of precisely what they were losing.
No, it would probably be even easier than you imagined with the desperation underscoring each exchange.
"Yeah? You two gonna make it up to me?" You made your voice sound more breathless than it really was, poking Satoru's firm chest while a real grin was quick to form on his face.
Pretty and perfectly unaware of the cum leaning down your leg, a fun discovery for him to find later.
Suguru moved quietly, a second hand drifting up your arm until he was brushing his thumb over your jaw, tilting your head to the side so you could face him for the first time. His dark stare was just as piercing as Satoru's bright one. Eyes narrowed and brows pulled together, traces of disappointment or disapproval still lingering in the lines of his face.
"What?" You huffed at him, folding your arms over your chest just for him to pry them back off and pull you to him.
"Did I say anything?" Suguru murmured, but his features hadn't shifted, still stuck in the same borderline pissy expression.
"You're staring like you wanna spank me," You taunted, right as Satoru actually did squeeze your ass from behind.
"Think your friend already did that," He cooly replied, his nose scrunching up for a second as he spit the word out a bit differently than the rest.
"Jealous?" You cocked your head to the side, rubbing it in a little more with your fake pout.
They were.
They could deny it or try to distract you, but the proof was in their possessiveness, the clenched jaws and their greedy grip on you.
"He doesn't deserve you," Satoru leaned down to whisper in your ear, pressing soft kisses into the still sensitive spots up your throat.
"As if you do?" You murmured, the dull thrum of desire starting to flare up despite your better judgement, leaning back just for Suguru to yank you forward, ending up sandwiched between their much bigger bodies.
"I'd do anything for you," Satoru whined, sinking his teeth in over one of the hickies Sukuna had left, kissing and sucking at it hard enough you couldn't help but shiver.
He must have a pretty narrow definition of anything. After all, he wouldn't be your boyfriend. Wouldn't take you on dates or kiss you in front of his friends.
He could only do anything if you were alone.
And apparently, you must've been the problem if they both knew the other was sleeping with you and still treated you like a dirty secret they had to share.
"Go fuck each other," You grumbled, giving them one last chance to back out but you knew they wouldn't when you were tilting your head back against Satoru's chest, your fingers slipping up underneath Suguru's shirt. "Leave me out of it."
"Can't," Suguru murmured, gently grabbing your chin to force you to face him. "Always been about you, baby."
You could almost believe that when they led you back to Satoru's room with more sweet whispers and greedy hands. Pulling your shirt off, their stares sticking to the kiss-covered canvas of your chest.
Suguru was pushing you on the bed while Satoru climbed on behind you, pale hands covering your breasts, your back flush with his chest as he continued to pepper your neck with desperate sucks, teeth nipping at you like it'd erase the hickies someone else left there.
You hoped every one reminded him of what they screwed up.
Suguru forced your hips up in the air, his fingers toying with the band of your pajama pants before he slipped them down your thighs and discarded them along with your underwear on the floor. The phone in your pocket made a small thud as it hit the floor.
Sliding his hands over your calves, past your knees, up, up, up until they were holding your thighs, parting them and-
Suguru stopped, sucking in a sharp breath and shaking his head.
"Something wrong?" You innocently asked, tilting your head to the side so Satoru could kiss your collarbone, his soft hair tickling you.
"No." Yes.
Was it not exhausting to never say what was really on his mind? You were exhausted. Weighed down by the shackles you let them attach to you, the affection you once showered them with.
"Well?" You waited, daring him to snap, to break, to do something other than keep up this stupid charade.
But he just slipped two sturdy fingers inside, his sly smile refusing to leave his lips while your mouth fell back open as you shuddered.
You wondered if he'd ever scooped another man's cum out of a girl before.
Or if you'd have the honor of being his first.
You imagined it was usually the other way around - that he probably finished inside their guest star and Satoru was the one who cleaned up the mess.
Being the second act, the understudy, fucking sucked. You wanted to be someone's main attraction.
His fingers crooked up, curling deeper and deeper, the force of his thrusts coating your thighs and Satoru's sheets with you and him.
The wet sound of it reverberating through the room, his dark eyes never leaving yours while Satoru held you in place, pushing the cum out with every rough pump of his fingers. Intense was an understatement.
His stare was searing - but in an icy way, frosted over. Irritated that you were slipping further and further out of his grasp, irritated that he was sharing you in a way he hadn't approved of prior.
"Suguru," You purred softly, watching the way his jaw unclenched, his shoulders relaxed.
Satoru's cock jumped against the small of your back at the sound of your voice, throbbing against your spine.
"Yeah?" Suguru's voice was deep, raspy, right as he slotted a third finger inside, your breath torn from your throat.
Hips arching up into his hand, Satoru's hand slipping down from your breast to press down on your stomach, the pressure on top of his best friend's fingers stretching you out already painting pretty white stars across your vision when you scrunched your eyes closed.
"F-fuck, I'm gonna-" You cut yourself off, panting as you tried to squirm, but Satoru refused to let you, his free hand wrapping around your throat, long fingers splayed out and squeezing softly, just enough that your head was spinning.
"C'mon, pretty, wanna see you cum," Suguru murmured, and you were, but you were still thinking about the other person whose cum was on his hand. The piece of you that wished it was him calling you pretty again.
But this time? You decided you'd be okay either way.
You'd either see him again or you wouldn't. You weren't going to let another man keep you waiting and wondering, stuck under his spell and spending every night thinking about him before you fell asleep.
"That's it, baby, let go," Satoru goaded in your ear, misunderstanding you once more - maybe for the last time too. "You're so gorgeous, you know that?"
Suguru was still shoving his fingers in-and-out, coaxing you through your climax, ignoring all the little praises his partner-in-fucking-you was whispering into your skin. Satoru pushed the hand on your stomach down harder, as if he'd actually be able to feel where Suguru was inside there, his grip on your throat tightening at the same time.
You couldn't let go with them anymore, but you did let yourself enjoy your high a little longer.
Lost in a fantasy from another life.
Wrapped around one man's fingers while the other's were wrapped around your throat.
Suguru slipped out with a wet sound that still made you blush, a hint of how self-consciousness persisting even now. He dragged his slick fingers up to where Satoru's hand was resting below your belly button, prying them off of you.
"She was mine first," Suguru muttered, releasing the fingers from your throat next. Satoru scoffed, trying to grab your waist, but Suguru picked you up with ease, his hand damp when it landed on your back, bringing you in until your breasts were pushed against his chest.
"Only because you cheated," Satoru argued back, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling it just hard enough to twist your face around so you were looking at him.
Despite how, uh, handsy, he'd been, he looked almost devastated. His pupils were too-wide, the blue still hardly visible. Brows scrunched together, his bottom lip a little farther out than the top.
"You loved me first, right, angel?" He tugged your hair harder, enough that he was able to lean over you and kiss your cheek.
Love was not a word you ever allowed yourself to accept when it came to them.
It stung more that all the feelings you tried to hard to bury had already been unearthed by them. Acting like they were entitled to you when they were just grave robbers.
"You're both insufferable," You mumbled, and Satoru laughed. Flicking Suguru's forehead with his free hand before sneakily wrapping a sturdy arm around you in order to twist you around to face him.
"But I'm right?" Satoru hummed, pulling you one way while Suguru readjusted your body for you until your hands and knees were sinking into the mattress. A pretty puppet for them to play with.
"Does it matter?" You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek while you heard the rustle of Suguru disrobing behind you, his clothes hitting the ground while Satoru peeled his shirt over his head, discarded his boxers next, a damp spot from where his swollen and leaky cock had dripped pre-cum over his thick, pink tip.
"Come on," Suguru joined in on Satoru's childish games, something hard pressing into your ass as the bed dipped behind you where he climbed back on. "You have to have a favorite."
And so what? You'd never be either of theirs.
One set of hand held your hips, and you weren't sure if it was you or him (or him) that was making your skin so wet when he positioned his thick length to rub along your entrance. Satoru pretended, at least, to be more sentimental about it, leaning over and cupping your face to draw your attention back up to him, this thumbs tracing over your cheekbones until they were almost squishing your face.
"Well?" He quizzed.
"I hate you both equally," You grumbled, but he didn't seem to believe you'd bite considering he just smiled so sincerely at you, letting go of your cheek to guide his cock towards your lips, the slightly salty taste of his pre-cum coating them a glossy white.
"You love us."
Satoru was probably just saying it because he needed to believe it. Needed it to be true more than he ever actually needed you.
If this was happening to you a a year ago? You'd probably tell them whatever they wanted to hear, making promises between kisses just for the hope they'd return a fraction of your adoration.
"Satoru," Suguru scolded him, the fingers dimpling around your waist digging deeper while he dragged his cock back across your heat, the pressure on your clit making you shudder on instinct, your mouth parting just enough for Satoru to slip the first few inches of his cock in your mouth. You had barely started to swirl your tongue around him, gradually allowing him to edge his way in before Suguru's tip caught on your entrance.
You couldn't decide which to focus on - Suguru's slow approach, taking his time to push in each searing inch, or Satoru's cock throbbing in your mouth, bumping into the back of your throat with every too-fast thrust.
"It's alright, baby, you don't have to answer him," Suguru leaned down, his mouth brushing against the bare expanse of our back as he spoke. Each kiss lingered. Soft, tender, his breath warm on your skin as he lodged himself deep enough you could practically feel him in your lungs. "I love you."
Time stopped. Your spine went stiff, all your muscles too-tense, frozen in place. A pit tearing open in your stomach, anxiety curdling and coiling and tying itself in knots you wished you could just rip out of you.
You were actually thankful for Satoru scoffing and shoving his cock back in your throat so you didn't have to reply to that.
"Seriously?" Satoru groaned, and it was half-annoyance, half-pleasure. "You were supposed to let me say it first."
"You took too long." You didn't need to see his face to know Suguru was probably shrugging and smirking while he slowly picked up the pace. Sliding his cock in-and-out, leaving the impression he was trying to make sure you memorized every vein and ridge of his cock while it seared inside you.
"I love you more, sweetheart," Satoru pitched his voice down to a low purr, caressing your cheek and stroking your hair like he might actually mean it. "You know that, right, baby?"
What you knew was they both had a pretty fucked idea of where the line was drawn between friendship and love and lust. They didn't love you.
They loved your attention. Your eyes glued to them, peering up at them on your knees, worshipping them with your mouth. They never paid attention to any of the words coming out of it.
Your own scoff was snuffed out by Suguru thrusting in hard enough it forced Satoru's cock to hit the back of your throat again, his vein pulsing fast over your tongue. He groaned, his grip on your hair pulling tight suddenly like it was all he had to hold himself back.
"See how good we can take care you?" Suguru murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin while his own hold on your hips dug deeper, like he wished he could leave fingerprints so you'd be left with the reminder you were still theirs.
"Mm, fuck, baby, m'so sorry, promise we'll never leave you out again, okay? Take you out somewhere nice tomorrow night and-"
You had to tune out Satoru's lovesick rambling, the sweet sincerity in his voice rolling through you as he said stuff you used to dream of.
Stuff he was probably only saying because you were sucking his dick.
You wondered what he'd say when you didn't let him finish.
If he knew half the hurt he'd put you through, would he really feel bad? Or would he only regret it if you weren't around?
Suguru's cock stretching you out around him, his subtle groans breathed into your back as he fucked you from behind, feeling like an animal on a leash they were trying to tame with how tightly they were both clinging onto you.
The low buzzing on the wood floor was a wake-up call.
A phone call that felt more like an alarm, dragging you out of bed and away from the dream you couldn't keep closing your eyes and pretending you still wanted any part of anymore.
Pulling away from Satoru with a filthy pop! while you pushed off by his hips, smacking at Suguru's hand on your own to squirm free. Sore legs trembling when you wobbled on bare feet over to your crumpled pajamas, picking it up and digging your phone free from the pocket.
It didn't matter who it was, even if wasn't him. Because the excuse had already taken shape in your mind, a cruel pin for you to shove in their straw hearts.
"Sorry, it's my boyfriend," You shrugged, offering a semi-apologetic pout.
"Your boyfriend?" Satoru scoffed, condescension off the second word like it was curse.
"Mm, yeah," You yawned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while you let your gaze lazily drift from one of your still-nude roommates the other. Naked and bare, muscles pulled taut, sweat glistening on their skin, dreamy. It was just that you'd woken up. "Gotta take this. You guys can take care of each other though."
You were bending over to grab your shirt and scurrying out after throwing a short wave over your shoulder, both of them too stunned to properly react.
"Sweetheart," Suguru called out before you'd even shut the door all the way, speaking softer than he had all night.
Stay.
Another item on the long list of things you'd never say to each other.
The last box was in your car. All the big furniture loaded up in the truck, on the way to your new home, the pen you used for your newly-signed lease sitting heavy in your purse when you threw one last look around your empty old room. A silent exit out of their life, no goodbyes necessary.
The quiet was weird.
How long would it take to get used to that after living alone?
A week? A month?
Footsteps echoing through the apartment as you paused by the kitchen, setting your purse down on the counter while you pulled out your keyring, struggling the old key off, scratched and worn from years of use before it softly clinked as you dropped it onto the marble.
Maybe you'd catch them in the street some day, wave and exchange an awkward hello or how are you that you would scrub from your memory once they left your rear view. For now, though, they'd just be a couple of blocked numbers, a list of places you'd avoid until their ghosts stopped haunting them.
Withdrawal would be a bitch.
But sticking around to just be a third party in this fucked-up little threesome was an addiction you couldn't afford anymore.
taglist: @nylve @sukuxna0 @aldebrana @ginginha @hon3yjaxx @shibataimu @tsukuhoe @iluchuuya @imm0rtalbutterfly @sukunasballstickler01 @moncher-ire @atiny-99 @sleepykittyenergy @uhnosav @bxnfire @unbaed-you @leaario @evilari111 @good-mourning0 @curlsnchxos @vamqyx @migueloharacumslut @diduzzula @rikiswifeyyy @violetpurplez @beepbeepyddgjj @trsh-kitty @00frenchfries00 @teenbreakup @chososlefteyeball @ghostreadersthings @stargazing-with-choso @froggkat @tojiwoah @thesunxwentblack @miizuzu @miscellaneous-misty @wisepeachwitch @esnocookie @sadmonke @dazed-lavender @rosieandthethorns @sttm99 @victoria1676 @bunnygirlgonewild
Lemon Cake With Cream Cheese Icing
Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader
A/N: Have a craving for lemon cake and cream cheese icing. Also have a craving for trilogy Logan...Enjoy!
Plot: You make a cake, Logan decides to get a taste.
Warnings: Pure teeth rotten fluff, Logan being cheeky, smooching <3
Word Count: 1848
Logan wandered the mansion, boredom evident on his face, the way his shoulders slumped and his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans.
Students hang around working on assignments, studying, or just mingling with friends. The others, Ororo, went out to catch a movie with Hank, Jean, and Scott holding hands and quietly talking about their plans to go shopping tomorrow, Charles in his study, reading quietly. It was a very quiet night.
Where were you?
Logan had found that he seeks you out often. Ever since he came here and met the quite lovely yet a bit of an oddball person you are, he’s been attached.
He searched the mansion with the intention of finding you. Not in your office or bedroom, not in the library- your usual spot, he already knew you weren’t watching a movie with the older students in the living room. The kitchen was the last - and final place he searched for you and succeeded in finding you during this unintentional game of hide-and-seek.
Your back was turned away from him, standing at the counter, he could smell something sweet- lemony scents in the air. You were holding a mixing bowl and stirring a wooden spoon inside. He walked over silently- you clearly lost in thought as you were staring at your laptop, sitting on the counter across from the various ingredients you had set out; Watching an episode of E.R, and absolutely enamored by the plot of the drama.
You didn’t sense him as he leaned over you, holding his breath as he leaned towards your ear. “Smells good.” He finally says, making you jump and nearly dropping the bowl onto the floor.
“Logan!” You yelped. You made a mock angry face, setting the bowl down firmly on the counter and playfully hitting his chest. “Rude! MAYBE you shouldn’t sneak up on people!”
“Maybe you just need to pay attention more, I’m not that quiet.” He teases, a toothy grin stretched across his face. You blushed, shaking your head as you grabbed the bowl again. He quickly dipped his hand into the bowl, before you could react, and took a smear of what looked to be icing that you were stirring with his finger and sticking it into his mouth. You audibly gasped. “Mm. It is good.” He nods, confirming it was icing, and tastes like cream cheese.
“James Logan Howlett.” You playfully shove him again. “Are you a child?”
“I’m 200 years old.” He shrugs, licking the rest of the icing off his finger.
“Act like it!” You lectured, but you couldn’t hide your smile, you turned back to your bowl. “200 year old man…” You scoffed under your breath.
“What are you making?” He asks, glancing at the oven and noticing a timer.
“A cake.” You inform him, tone stern due to his antics. He nodded, glancing over the ingredients sprawled across the counter. You continued stirring the bowl of icing in your hand, trying to continue watching your show and ignoring him - and failing. He was standing so close to you, trying to be a nuisance and get a reaction from you, as he always does.
He waited a moment, before reaching over and trying to get another taste of the icing again. You, prepared for him this time, smack his hand away.
“Stop!” You tell him firmly, but a small breathy laugh escapes you, only spurring him on. He grinned devilishly, reaching for the bowl. You tried to yank it away but Logan is much, much faster than you, and much stronger as well.
One arm wrapped around your arms and body, trapping you against him while his other hand yanked the bowl away. You shrieked in laughter, while he grabbed the wooden spoon, pretending to observe it, before giving you a sneaky side eye, and bringing it up to his lips, sticking his tongue out and taking a comically long lick of the spoon. Closing his eyes and letting out a satisfied groan, he shook his head slowly as he savored the flavor of the icing, taunting you.
“Howlett!” You shouted as you wiggled against him, trying to get free.
“You’ve outdone yourself once again as a baker, bub.” He grins, licking the spoon again.
“You’re a damn menace.” You giggled, and he finally let you go. He hummed, winking at you as he licked the spoon again. You watched him with an amused expression until you noticed a blob of icing on the corner of his mouth. You reached over, picking it up with your finger and he watched you stick it into your mouth, lips wrapping around your finger. You closed your eyes, smacking your lips, and then looked at him, tilting your head. “You’re right, it is pretty good.”
He nodded, trying to ignore how your slightly flirty action made his heart skip, and the tip of his ears turn red. You turned to the counter, opening a drawer and pulled out a spoon, dipping it into the bowl of icing, and tasting it once more with a firm nod.
“It’s my first time making it.” You inform him, as he licks the wooden spoon that he stole from you clean. He nodded, as you both enjoyed the icing in comfortable silence. The timer of the oven went off, and you moved to grab an oven mitt, your chest brushing past him as he watched you with half-lidded eyes.
You pulled out the cake, the aroma of lemons now filling the room. You set it on top of the oven, and turned on the fan to blow over it so it would cool off quickly.
“So, why are you making a cake?” Logan asks.
You shrugged. “Had a craving for something…Lemon-y.” You glanced up at him, feeling your face heat up at the way he looked down at you. An expression you could only see as fondness. A softness in his eyes and the way his lips turned into a barely-there smile when he looked at you.
You and Logan had something. What that was you didn’t quite know yet. You found often that your hands would find each other in quiet moments together, and chaotic moments as well. Sitting next to each other in the living room watching a movie, his hand quietly and slowly interlocking into yours, his thumb brushing over yours softly. Running from yet another one of Magneto’s stunts, your hand reaching for Logans to make sure Eric doesn’t grab him- not that it would really stop him but brought security to you that Logan was still there. It was as if there was some sort of magnetic attraction in your hands - and yourselves. Always seemingly drawn together.
The cake cooled off, and you iced it with your homemade cream cheese icing while Logan leaned against the counter next to you, arms crossed, and watching your every move.
You set the spatula into the sink, and you grabbed a fork from the drawer. Digging into the cake, you collected a small piece on the fork. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, tipping your chin up at Logan with half-lidded eyes and a faint smile, holding the fork to his lips.
“You get the first taste.” You say.
“Thought I was a menace?”
“Yeah but you’re cute too, so why not?”
A soft blush came across his face, as his eyes bore into yours. He parted his lips and allowed you to feed him the cake. Licking his lips once, he chewed, before closing his eyes nodding.
“That’s…That’s good.” He grinned. “That’s really good.”
“Yeah?” You brightened up. You went and took another piece from the cake and tasted it next. “Mmm…” You rolled your eyes back, shaking your head. The lemon flavor wasn’t too overwhelming, but added just the right amount of sweetness to the cake without being tart.
You pick another piece up, feeding Logan more cake as well as yourself, as you both enjoy in silence. Logan hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and you could tell. It was making you nervous, and you couldn’t look at him directly because of it.
“Hey.” Logan’s warm voice made you look up at him. “You have…” He reached his hand up to show you on his face where you had a bit of icing stuck to your lip - and suddenly it was like a lightbulb flashed above his head. His hand instead reached over to cup your jaw, as he leaned down and softly pressed his lips to yours.
Your breath hitched at the feeling, but you dropped the fork, your hands going to his broad shoulders and kissing him back. Your lips were soft against each other, gentle, and you could taste the flavors of the cake and icing. Your noses are slightly smooshed against each other's cheeks. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer as you brought your hands down to grip his biceps.
You felt yourself start to smile in your kiss, unable to hold it together, a soft giggle escaping you. Logan then grinned against you, his hands squeezing your hips as he leaned into you. Your bodies were curled into each other as if you fit perfectly, a puzzle piece neither of you knew you were missing. Holding each other in a soft manner that felt only warm and safe.
“This funny bub?” He mumbles against your lips.
“No.” You respond, squeezing his biceps through his flannel, noting just how muscular they felt and you wonder if he was purposely flexing to impress you or if they were naturally that hard. “I just really like kissing you.” You giggle again. He let out a warm mirth, sending the butterflies in your belly to go wild. He pulled you in for another soft kiss, pressing firmer this time as you moved your hands up into his hair, curling around his brown locks.
“You two are really cute.”
Startling you both, Jean and Scott were standing in the doorway of the kitchen with amusement on their faces. “We smelled cake and were going to ask if we could have a slice buuuut…” Jean teased, as she turned bringing a hand to Scott's shoulder, encouraging him to turn and leave the room with her. “We’ll come back later.”
Logan let out a grunt, displeased by your interruption. He turned to look at you. You looked a tad flustered, your skin flushed, your lips slightly swollen, as you brought your hands down to his shoulders again, smoothing them over his chest- but he didn’t let go.
“You wanna go somewhere more private bub?” He asks softly. You nodded. He could hear your precious heart pounding in your chest. He felt no different. “Okay.” He nods confirming your answer.
“Let’s bring the cake though.” You add. “If we leave it alone, there’s not gonna be any left for us.” You grinned. He stepped back, reluctantly letting you go.
“Agreed.” He reached over, grabbing the pan in one hand, while his other grabbed yours, leading you out of the kitchen and to your bedroom.
༼;´༎ຶ ༎ຶ༽(｡・//ε//・｡)
Chapter 9: Across the Divide
Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: angst, fluff, 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language, loss of virginity, handjob, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, missionary, creampie.
A/N: If Chapter 8 was a punch to the gut, this one is… well, let’s call it an attempt at first aid. Sort of. Have you ever watched two people try to fix something in the worst possible way, only for it to somehow work because they don’t know any other language but this? Yeah. That.
Consider this a little Valentine’s Day treat. Twisted, messy, and completely them. Read when you’re ready. And yes, my inbox is still open for any and all reactions.
Word count: 7 k
© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.
The yard had grown quiet as the other workers moved further into the forest, leaving Logan to finish stacking the last of the wood alone. The sharp bite of winter hung in the air, his breath clouding in front of him with every exhale. The solitude was welcome—at least, that’s what he told himself.
But the silence didn’t stop the memories.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
Logan clenched his fists, the words circling in his mind like a relentless echo. He grabbed a log from the pile and slammed it onto the stump, the impact reverberating through his arms. The ax swung down, splitting the wood clean in two.
“I’m sorry for coming unannounced.”
He knew better than to hope for steady ground, better than to let himself believe he could hold onto something good. With Evelyn, it had felt different—like maybe, just maybe, he could carve out a life that didn’t feel like running or regret.
Now, it felt like a mistake.
The kiss he’d seen replayed over and over in his head, each time cutting deeper. It wasn’t just her ex he was angry at, though the smugness on the bastard’s face made Logan’s blood boil. No, most of the anger was for himself—for being stupid enough to think he could be enough for her.
The crunch of boots on gravel pulled him from his thoughts. Pete and Rick approached from the truck, their faces drawn with concern.
“You alright, Howlett?” Pete asked, his voice cautious but probing.
Logan didn’t look up, hefting another log onto the stump. “I’m fine.”
Pete and Rick exchanged a glance, the kind that said he’s definitely not fine.
“Look,” Pete began, leaning on the tailgate. “You don’t want to talk about it. But you’ve been going at this woodpile like it owes you money. Maybe take a second to breathe?”
“I don’t need a breather,” Logan said flatly, his tone daring them to push further.
Rick, quieter but no less perceptive, stepped up beside Pete. “You don’t have to talk,” he said after a pause, his voice measured. “But if you keep bottling it up, it’s gonna come out sideways.”
Logan didn’t respond, his focus locked on the ax as he brought it down with enough force to split the log cleanly.
Pete let out a low whistle. “Man, whatever’s eating at you must be big. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Logan finally stopped, leaning on the ax handle and leveling Pete with a glare. “I said I’m fine.”
“Sure, sure,” Pete said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you keep this up, there won’t be any wood left in the yard for the rest of us.”
Rick sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, Logan. I don’t know what happened with Evelyn, but if she’s got you this twisted up, maybe she’s worth hearing out.”
Logan’s grip on the ax tightened, his jaw clenching as he stared at the ground. The truth in Rick’s words cut deeper than he cared to admit.
“Not my place to butt in,” Pete added, though his grin said otherwise. “But if you’re spending this much time stewing over it, she’s probably thinking about you, too.”
Logan shot them both a sharp look, then yanked the ax from the stump and turned toward the forest. “Leave it alone,” he muttered, stalking off into the trees without another word.
Pete waited until Logan was out of earshot before muttering, “Yeah, that went well.”
Rick shrugged, grabbing the thermos from the truck bed. “He’ll figure it out. He always does.”
During the course of the next couple of days the rhythm of the yard was the same, but Logan’s presence felt heavier. He worked harder than usual, his focus razor-sharp, but the tension in his frame was impossible to ignore.
Pete and Rick kept their distance this time, their occasional glances filled with concern.
By midday, Logan had thrown himself into another project, replacing a broken tool rack near the shed. His movements were precise, his jaw set in determination. But even as he worked, his mind wandered—back to the driveway, to Evelyn’s face when she saw him, and to the kiss that had shattered something inside him.
The guys noticed, but they didn’t say a word. Pete started a fire near the edge of the clearing, his usual jokes subdued. Rick passed by with a nod but left Logan to his thoughts.
By the time dusk fell, Logan was still at it, the hammer in his hand swinging with a force that bordered on reckless.
Tension seemed to follow him wherever he went, and his coworkers gave him a wide berth, exchanging knowing glances but keeping their distance.
The others gave him a wide berth, the tension in the yard thick enough to cut with a blade. Midday, the office phone rang, its shrill tone breaking the monotony of the worksite. Rick wiped his hands on a rag as he stepped inside to answer.
“Yeah, this is Rick,” he said, leaning against the desk.
“Hey, it’s Mary,” his wife’s voice came through the line, light but concerned. “Thought you’d want to know—I saw Evelyn back in town. She was at the general store this morning.”
Rick raised an eyebrow, glancing out the window toward Logan. “That right?”
“She looked... well, not great. Like she’s been through it. Thought Logan might want to know.”
Rick thanked her and hung up, stepping back outside with a purposeful stride. Pete caught his eye as he walked toward Logan, who was hunched over another stack of wood.
“What’s the news?” Pete asked.
Rick ignored him, stopping a few feet from Logan. “Hey, Howlett,” he called out, his tone even.
Logan didn’t look up. “What?”
Rick hesitated, then said, “Mary saw Evelyn in town this morning. Thought you’d want to know.”
Logan froze, his hands stilling on the axe handle. For a moment, it looked like he might respond, but then he shook his head and resumed working.
“Good for her,” he muttered, his voice flat.
Pete stepped forward, frustration evident in his expression. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re hurting, and so is she. Go talk to her.”
Logan’s grip on the axe tightened, his knuckles white. “I said I don’t care,” he snapped.
Pete sighed, throwing up his hands. “Alright, fine. Be stubborn. But don’t come crying to us when it’s too late.”
Rick shot Pete a warning look, but Logan didn’t seem to hear them anymore. He swung the axe down with a force that sent the wood flying, the conversation over.
When the day finally ended, Logan climbed into his truck, his body aching from the nonstop work. The drive home was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound to fill the cab.
As he pulled onto the dirt road leading to his cottage, his headlights illuminated a familiar vehicle parked in his driveway. Logan’s chest tightened, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he slowed to a stop.
It was Evelyn’s truck.
For a long moment, he sat there, staring at it, his mind racing. A part of him wanted to get out, to see her, to hear whatever explanation she had to offer. But the memory of that kiss, of her ex standing so close to her, was a wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding.
With a sharp exhale, Logan put the truck in reverse and backed down the road.
He didn’t look back.
The next day Logan was halfway to the kitchen when he noticed the Polaroid resting on the mantle—the one Evelyn had taken of herself.
He stared at it for a long moment, his chest tightening as he reached out to pick it up. The sight of her smile—the carefree warmth in her eyes—brought a lump to his throat he couldn’t swallow.
A sudden knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. He hesitated, his grip on the Polaroid tightening as he listened.
“I know you’re there, Logan,” Evelyn’s voice called softly from the other side. “Are you done running away from me? Please... let me explain.”
Logan’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the photo in his hand. He didn’t move.
“Logan,” she tried again, her voice trembling. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”
Still, he didn’t answer.
The minutes stretched on, the silence heavy and suffocating. Eventually, Evelyn exhaled shakily, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. For everything. For not stopping him, for not calling you first. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me.”
When the sound of her footsteps receded, Logan finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He sat down heavily, the Polaroid still in his hand as the weight of the past few days pressed down on him like a boulder.
They didn’t speak for a week after Evelyn’s return. The silence between them was deafening, but neither seemed willing to bridge the gap.
The logging yard was alive with the rhythmic sound of axes striking wood, the hum of engines, and the occasional crack of a tree falling in the distance. Evelyn’s truck rolled into the gravel lot, its tires crunching softly against the frozen ground. Her heart pounded as she parked near the edge of the clearing, unsure if she had made the right decision by coming here.
As she stepped out, the cold air nipped at her cheeks, her breath visible in the chill. Her gaze scanned the bustling yard until it landed on two familiar figures standing near the truck bed—Rick and Pete. They noticed her almost instantly, exchanging a quick glance before Pete raised a hand in greeting.
“Miss Evelyn!” Pete called, his tone warm but tinged with curiosity. He closed the distance between them, wiping his hands on his flannel shirt. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Everything alright?”
She hesitated, shifting on her feet as Rick joined them, his expression more reserved but just as welcoming.
“Is Logan here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Pete and Rick exchanged another look, this one heavier.
“He’s around,” Rick said carefully, his arms folding across his chest. “But this probably isn’t the place for whatever conversation you’re looking to have.”
Evelyn’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the last few days catching up to her. “I’ve been trying to talk to him,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I went to his cabin, but... he wouldn’t see me.”
Pete winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s been... well, let’s just say he’s not exactly himself lately.”
“He’s hurt,” Rick added bluntly, his gaze steady on her. “You can see it in the way he’s working—pushing himself harder than he should. Whatever happened between you two, it’s eating him alive.”
Evelyn swallowed hard, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t even—” She stopped, her breath hitching as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I never wanted to hurt him.”
Rick’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I believe you. But he’s got his walls up right now. It’s going to take more than just words to get through to him.”
Pete stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll talk to him. Try to get him to see reason. But you’ve got to give him a little time, alright? Let us handle it.”
Evelyn nodded reluctantly, the knot in her stomach tightening. “I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” she said softly.
“He knows,” Pete assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it right now.”
The drive back to the cottage felt longer than usual, the winter landscape passing by in a blur. Evelyn’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Pete and Rick. Their words had given her a small measure of hope, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in her chest.
By the time she reached home, the familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a semblance of comfort. She slipped inside, the warmth of the woodstove embracing her as she shed her coat and boots. Her gaze drifted to the basket of unfinished crochet pieces sitting by the couch.
With a deep breath, Evelyn settled herself down, picking up the half-finished sweater she had started weeks ago. Her hands moved methodically, the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn soothing her frayed nerves.
Hours turned into days, and the rhythm of her life resumed, though it felt emptier than before. She spent her mornings tending to small chores around the cottage, her afternoons lost in her crafts, and her evenings staring at the quiet phone, willing it to ring.
She wanted to give Logan space, to let him come to her when he was ready, but the silence was agonizing. The weight of waiting gnawed at her, and though she tried to keep herself busy, the ache of missing him lingered.
“He knows,” Pete assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it right now.”
The drive back to the cottage felt longer than usual, the winter landscape passing by in a blur. Evelyn’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Pete and Rick. Their words had given her a small measure of hope, but the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in her chest.
By the time she reached home, the familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a semblance of comfort. She slipped inside, the warmth of the woodstove embracing her as she shed her coat and boots. Her gaze drifted to the basket of unfinished crochet pieces sitting by the couch.
With a deep breath, Evelyn settled herself down, picking up the half-finished sweater she had started weeks ago. Her hands moved methodically, the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn soothing her frayed nerves.
Hours turned into days, and the rhythm of her life resumed, though it felt emptier than before. She spent her mornings tending to small chores around the cottage, her afternoons lost in her crafts, and her evenings staring at the quiet phone, willing it to ring.
She wanted to give Logan space, to let him come to her when he was ready, but the silence was agonizing. The weight of waiting gnawed at her, and though she tried to keep herself busy, the ache of missing him lingered.
It wasn’t until a rainy evening, as Evelyn was driving home from a fair out of town, that their paths crossed again. Logan’s truck was idling at an intersection, his expression unreadable as their eyes met through the windshield. Without thinking, she pulled over, her tires skidding slightly in the mud. She threw her truck into park and jumped out, the cold rain immediately soaking through her coat as she ran toward him.
“Logan,” she called, her voice barely audible over the downpour.
Logan slammed on the brakes, his truck skidding slightly before halting. He stepped out, his gaze finally meeting hers, his eyes shadowed with a mix of anger and hurt. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, drops clinging to his lashes as he looked at her.
“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, his voice low and sharp.
“I’m trying to fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t stand how things are between us right now.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. “Maybe things are better this way.”
“No,” she said firmly. “They’re not. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I’m not letting you leave again. Not without hearing me out.”
“I’ve heard enough.”, he spits out.
Evelyn steps closer, her voice rising over the rain.“No, you haven’t! You think you know what happened, but you don’t! That kiss—it wasn’t me. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it.”
Logan’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing.“Didn’t look like you were pulling away, either.”
“I froze! I didn’t know how to react. But the second I saw you, it was over. I didn’t care about him—I care about you.”, she said looking at him.
He let out a harsh breath, looking away. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what I saw.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted, tears mixing with the rain. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t care about how it would hurt you. I love you, Logan. Do you hear me? I love you. And I’m not letting you push me away because of one stupid mistake.”
Logan’s breath catches, his usual walls crumbling under the weight of her words. For a moment, he just stares at her, the rain streaming down his face, a flicker of something raw crossing his face. “Don’t say that,” he muttered. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I mean it,” she said, her voice breaking as tears mixed with the rain streaming down her face. “I love you, and I’m sorry for everything. For not stopping him, for not calling you first. I never wanted to hurt you, Logan. Please believe me.”
For a long moment, they stood there in the rain, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Finally, Logan closed the distance, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her—desperate, hungry, and filled with all the emotions he’d kept bottled up.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Logan exhaled softly. “I love you tooI’ve been alone a long time,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I know how to do this... but I can’t lose you.”
Evelyn smiled through her tears, her hands still cradling his face. “You’re not going to lose me, Logan. We’ll figure it out together.”
The rain continued to pour around them, but in that moment, it felt like the storm had finally passed.
Logan’s eyes searched hers, and without another word, he leaned in again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was deeper, hotter, and filled with all the longing he had tried to suppress. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
Evelyn responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his rain-soaked hair, her lips parting to meet his urgency. The rain continued to pour around them, but neither seemed to care. Each kiss was hungrier than the last, the heat between them undeniable despite the cold storm.
Logan’s hands slid up her back, strong and steady, anchoring her as their kiss deepened. When she pressed against him, he let out a low, guttural sound, his restraint slipping. His lips left hers, trailing along her jaw and down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as her head tilted back, exposing more of her to him.
“Maybe we should—” Logan murmured against her neck, his voice rough and uneven.
“Get out of the rain?” she finished breathlessly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension crackling between them. “Yeah. Before we end up with pneumonia.”
They broke apart reluctantly, the air charged as they hurried to his truck. Once inside, the doors slammed shut, the rain pounding against the roof providing a steady rhythm to the silence that followed.
But the moment was far from over. As soon as the doors were locked, Logan reached for her again, pulling her onto his lap. Their lips collided once more, this time with an unrestrained passion that made her shiver. Her hands roamed over his chest, the damp flannel clinging to his broad frame as he held her tightly, his fingers gripping her hips as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.
Their movements grew more heated, her hips grinding down against him instinctively as their breathing quickened. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the seat as she moved again, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both of them.
“Evelyn,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “If we don’t stop now…”
She paused, her forehead pressing to his as they both struggled to catch their breath. The weight of his words hung between them, but neither made a move to pull away.
“Then let’s go,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the flush rising to her cheeks.
Logan’s hands tightened on her waist, his amber eyes dark with emotion and something deeper. “You sure?”
She nodded, brushing her lips against his once more, softer this time but no less certain. “I’ve never been more sure.”
Without another word, Logan gently lifted her off his lap, his touch lingering as they adjusted themselves. He started the truck, his hand finding hers as they drove through the rain, the tension between them simmering and unresolved—but not for much longer.
The rain hadn’t let up by the time Logan pulled the truck into the clearing by his cabin. The headlights cut through the downpour, illuminating the weathered wood of the small structure nestled among the trees.
Logan killed the engine, turning to glance at Evelyn. Her cheeks were flushed, her damp hair sticking to her neck and temples, but she was staring at him with an intensity that sent a pang through his chest.
“Come on,” he muttered, stepping out of the truck. The cold rain hit him immediately, but he barely noticed as he rounded the vehicle to her side.
Evelyn climbed out, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill seeped through her already soaked clothes. Logan’s hand pressed gently against her back, guiding her toward the cabin. The touch was firm but protective, his warmth cutting through the cold.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of pine and faint smoke. Logan flicked on a single lamp, its amber glow softening the shadows in the small space.
“Go shower,” he said gruffly, already shrugging off his wet flannel and hanging it on a hook near the door. His voice softened as he added, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”
Evelyn hesitated, watching as he bent to stoke the fireplace. The orange flames roared to life under his practiced touch, casting flickering light over his broad shoulders and damp hair.
“What about you?” she asked quietly.
“I’ll dry off,” he replied without looking at her. “Go on. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
She lingered for a moment longer, the warmth of his care sinking into her even if his tone was brusque. Then she nodded and disappeared down the hall.
By the time she returned, the cabin was bathed in a cozy glow. Logan had shed his wet clothes, now dressed in a clean pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He was seated on the couch, his head resting against the back, eyes half-closed as he warmed himself by the fire.
Evelyn paused in the doorway, her heart stuttering at the sight of him. He looked so unguarded, so human, a stark contrast to the stormy, gruff exterior he so often wore.
She was wearing one of his shirts—soft and slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows. Her hair was still damp, and her cheeks held a faint blush.
Logan’s eyes opened as she stepped into the room, and they darkened when they landed on her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them carrying all the weight of what had happened that night.
She crossed the room and climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. Logan stiffened slightly, his hands instinctively resting on her thighs, but he didn’t pull away.
“Evelyn…” he began, his voice low, almost a warning.
“I just want to be close to you,” she whispered, her hands finding his shoulders. “Is that okay?”
Logan’s eyes softened, the tension in his body easing as he exhaled. “Yeah,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to rest on her waist.
She leaned forward, her forehead pressing gently to his. They sat like that for a moment, the crackling fire filling the silence. Logan’s hands moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and she sighed softly, her fingers trailing along the curve of his jaw.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice rough but sincere.
“I know,” she replied, brushing her lips lightly against his. “But I want this. I want you.”
Logan’s breath hitched as her hands slid beneath his shirt, her fingers grazing his skin with the kind of deliberate, maddening slowness that made his muscles tighten. He caught her wrists, holding them still against his chest as his amber eyes locked onto hers, dark with a mixture of frustration and desire.
“Evelyn,” he rasped, his voice low, like gravel, as though her name alone was enough to unravel him. “Don’t push me unless you mean it.”
Her lips curved—not into a smile, but something softer, something steeped in the kind of certainty he wasn’t sure how to face. “I mean it,” she whispered, her words quiet but carrying the weight of all the times she hadn’t said them before.
Logan’s grip on her wrists loosened, his hands sliding up her arms and pulling her closer as if he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head, his forehead pressing to hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the faint storm still raging outside.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?” he murmured, his voice raw, thick with the effort it took to hold himself back.
Her response was immediate, her fingers curling into his shoulders as she tugged him closer. “I’ve waited long enough,” she said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was racing. “Haven’t you?”
The question landed like a punch to his chest. Of course he had. Every glance, every touch, every moment she’d been close enough to feel but not touch—it had all been building to this, wearing him down piece by piece. And now, here she was, not just asking but demanding, her presence overwhelming in a way that left him powerless to resist.
“Damn it, Evelyn,” he growled, his voice barely a whisper as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. His lips captured hers with a ferocity that surprised even him, the kiss deep and unrelenting, years of restraint and denial crumbling in an instant.
She responded in kind, her hands threading into his hair as if she couldn’t get him close enough. Her hips shifted instinctively against his, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest that sent a shiver racing through her.
When he pulled back, it was only far enough to press his forehead to hers, his breath ragged as his hands tightened on her waist. “If we keep going…” His voice was strained, his words a warning that came too late.
Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. “Then we keep going,” she said simply, her voice soft but resolute. Her hands drifted down to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward in one fluid motion.
Logan let her strip it away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he studied her. His hands hovered at her sides, hesitant, even now. “You sure?” he asked, the question a bare whisper, almost lost in the space between them.
Her answer was to close the gap, her lips brushing his with a gentleness that sent his control spiraling. “I’ve never been more sure,” she murmured, her voice steady even as her fingers traced the faint scars across his chest.
Logan groaned softly, his hands finally moving, sliding up her sides with a reverence that made her heart ache. When he kissed her again, it wasn’t hurried—it was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to commit every second to memory.
Without a word, he shifted, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her the short distance to the bedroom. He set her down carefully, his hands lingering at her hips as he stood over her, his chest rising and falling with the effort of restraint.
Her hands reached for him again, pulling him down until he was hovering above her, the weight of him grounding her as much as it electrified her. His lips found hers, his kiss deepening as his hands explored her body with a mix of hunger and care.
When her hips rolled against him again, drawing another guttural sound from his throat, Logan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “If we’re doing this,” he said, his voice a growl softened by something deeper, “I’m not letting you go.”
Her lips curved, her fingers threading into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan. “Good,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion and desire. “Because I don’t want you to.”
Logan’s eyes locked onto hers, the raw heat in his gaze making her pulse race. He crushed his lips to hers, the kiss no longer gentle but searing, desperate, as though he couldn’t get enough of her.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he pressed her back into the bed. The weight of him was intoxicating, his strength overwhelming yet controlled, as if he were holding himself back by sheer will alone. She wasn’t having it. Her fingers slid down his chest, nails skimming the taut muscles before finding the button of his jeans. With a flick of her wrist, she popped it open, dragging the zipper down with deliberate slowness, savoring the sharp inhale he couldn’t suppress.
Logan growled against her mouth, his breath hot and uneven as he broke the kiss to bury his face in her neck. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, a teasing bite that made her gasp and arch into him.
Logan’s hands, large and rough, gripped the hem of her shirt and yanked it upward, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The garment fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as his eyes roamed over her, dark with hunger.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, tempered with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.
Her cheeks burned, her nerves tangling with her desire. “I… I want to,” she whispered, her fingers gripping the edge of his waistband, but her voice trembled despite her conviction. “I just—”
Logan silenced her with a kiss, this one slower, deliberate, as if he were savoring her. When he pulled away, his thumb brushed over her cheek, his expression a mixture of hunger and restraint. “You don’t have to rush anything,” he said softly, his forehead pressing against hers.
Her heart thudded at his words, and she nodded, her fingers trailing up to his chest, where his heartbeat was steady and strong beneath her touch.
Logan’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his hands moving to her waist, steady and sure.
Her hands trembled as she reached for him, sliding over his chest and down to the waistband of his jeans. “I want to see you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Logan grinned, the expression almost feral, but there was a softness in his gaze as he stood to strip off his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion. When he returned to her, he moved slower, his body warm and solid as he pressed against her.
“Touch me,” he encouraged, his hand guiding hers to explore the ridges of his chest and the lines of his muscles. The heat in his voice was laced with reassurance, and the way he watched her, patient and unhurried, made her boldness grow.
Her fingers mapped his skin, her touch tentative at first, but when he groaned, low and deep, she felt a thrill she couldn’t ignore. “Like that,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her thigh to pull her closer, his touch igniting sparks along her skin.
She tentatively grabbed hold of his thick and veiny penis, wrapping her fingers around him. Logan inhaled sharply at her touch, his jaw tightening momentarily before his expression softened. He placed his hand gently over hers, guiding her movements with slow precision.
"Just like that," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
Evelyn’s blush deepened, but she didn’t pull away, her curiosity outweighing her hesitation. She watched his face, captivated by the way his brows furrowed slightly, his lips parting as she followed his lead. Her movements were clumsy at first, uncertain, but Logan’s patience never wavered.
"Good," he whispered, his voice laced with encouragement. "You're perfect."
The praise sent a shiver through her, and she felt a growing confidence in her actions. Logan leaned down, kissing her deeply, his hand sliding from hers to cup her cheek once more, anchoring her in the moment.
“Logan,” she breathed, her voice shaky but filled with trust.
"May I?" he asked, his fingers toying with the delicate fabric of her panties.
Evelyn nodded, her breath catching as he began to slide the garment down her legs. His eyes never left hers, even as he rid her of the last barrier between them. Once she was bare beneath him, Logan took a moment to simply look at her, his gaze reverent.
Logan let his hands smooth over her thighs slowly opening them up, her arousal glistening in the low light of the room.
“Don’t be scared”, he whispered as he lowered himself coming face to face with her sex. “You smell so good.”, he said, nuzzling the skin of her inner thigh.
Logan peppered kisses over her mound and inner thigh’s, whie his hand snaked up to grab hold of her right breast and gave it a good squeeze.
Logan gave a kiss to her clit eliciting a moan to erupt from deep within. He took that as a sign to keep going, the hand that was on her breast trailed down her belly and stopped when it came in contact with her pussy. His index and pointer finger lowered down to her glistening hole collecting her arousal and spreading it around. Evelyn gasped and his tongue ran a single long line across her slit to her bud,making her shiver at the foreigner feeling.
“Logan…” she moaned.
“Tell me what you want.” he answered, his breath fanning over her hole.
“More of that, please.”
He took her plea as an incentive to keep going. His tongue replaced his thumb, slowly circling her clit and occasionally dipping it to her hole.
Evelyn's legs closed instinctively around his head as her moans became incrinsingly louder.
“Feel good?” he asked rhetorically.
She nodded looking down at him and biting her lip.
His index finger started to circle her hole as his tongue remained focused on her clit, carefully dipping it in, until his hand came in full contact with her pussy.
Evelyn moaned at the intrusion but welcomed it. Logan started to slowly pump it in and out, creating a steady rhythm.
Evelyn started to moan softly, and at that Logan decided to add another finger.
“Oh God…”she moaned as his fingers pumped easily in and out of her.
Her hand clasped around his arm as he began opening her hole “Logan…”
He positioned himself above her, continuing to pump his fingers. He licked her lips and gently bit her bottom lip pulling it slowly.
Evelyn, taken over by the overwhelming feeling, grabbed hold of his arm.”Logan…”, she moaned.
Logan could feel her walls tightening around his fingers and incresead the spead,making sure to stimulate her clit with his thumb.
A loud moan erupted from Evelyn as she came hard.
Content with this work, Logan retrieved his fingers from her hole and, staring at her eyes, sucked his fingers clean.
“So good,” he said as he laid between her legs.
Evelyn blushed at his words and pulled him in for a kiss. Logan laid his hips over hers, allowing for his manhood to come in direct contact with her pussy. As the kiss grew hungrier, their hips started to move, creating friction, allowing for moans to erupt on both ends.
Logan, without breaking the kiss, pulled his hips back, allowing for him to line himself with Evelyn's entry. He began to slowly push in, feeling the resistance slowly ease.
Evelyn gasped in his mouth, as she felt him bottom out.
Logan rested his forehead on hers and intertwined their fingers above her head.
“How are you feeling?”he asked, looking for any sign of discomfort.
“Full,” she said breathlessly.
He shifted his hips slightly, giving her time to adjust, his hand caressing the curve of her waist to steady her. Evelyn gasped again, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as her body adjusted to the stretch and fullness.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” Logan said softly, his voice carrying both reassurance and patience.
“I just… I need a moment.”she replied breathlessly, her cheeks flushed.
Logan nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there. He stayed still, allowing her to acclimate to the new sensation. His fingers remained intertwined with hers, their grip grounding her in the moment.
When Evelyn shifted her hips experimentally, a soft sigh escaping her lips, Logan took it as a sign to move. Slowly, he began to withdraw before easing back in, his movements controlled and deliberate. He watched her face closely, his sharp eyes scanning for any trace of discomfort, but all he found was awe and the growing haze of pleasure.
Evelyn’s breaths came in short gasps, her lips parting as she met his thrusts tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence. The connection between them deepened with every movement, the air heavy with shared vulnerability and trust.
“You’re doing so good,” Logan praised, his voice rough yet tender as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin.
Her hands tightened around his, her head tilting back into the pillows as soft moans spilled from her lips. “Logan… oh, Logan…” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of astonishment and need.
He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, his pace quickening slightly as he felt her relax around him. Their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. The heat between them built steadily, the tension mounting as every thrust brought them closer to the edge.
“You're so tight and wet- Fuck” he rasped, his voice thick as he pressed his forehead to hers once more.
Logan's hand left hers to brush a strand of damp hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her flushed cheek. “I got you baby,” he whispered, his tone reverent.
One of his hands made its way down, and Logan began circling her bundle of nerves.
“Yes! Oh, my God, yes!” Evelyn cried as her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders for stability, as she felt herself overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.
He smiled looking at her. “Look… Look at how good we fit together - shit” he moaned.
Evelyn looked down, and was amazed at the sight, his thick and veiny member covered in her slick going in and out of her, the motion creacting a creamy white ring at the base of his manhood.
“Logan,” she said moaned.
Logan speed up, the sound of slapping skin feeling the room.
“It's okay baby, let it happen.” He leaned down and kissed her with a bruising force.
Evelyn moans filled the room.
She looked deep in his eyes and took hold of his hair.
Oh
Oh
She tugged on his hair as she came hard around him, the bed beneath her shaking.
Logan growled as his tip bumped into her cervix, the extra lubrication helped him dive even deeper.
“Sh-it!” He cursed as he felt her walls contracting around him urging his release.
Logan moaned deeply as his penis throbbed, spilling his seed deep inside of Evelyn’s velvety walls.
The new sensation made her eyes roll to the back of her head. It was something so deeply intimate and messy.
Logan collapsed on top of her. They were still both breathless as he lifted his head and looked at her.
“You okay?” He asked breathlessly as placed a soft kiss on her lips.
Evelyn smiled against his mouth, her arms still wrapped loosely around his shoulders. “More than okay,” she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of awe and teasing.
He smiled gently, lifting himself off her, to pull out his member from her. He growled at the sight of their conjoined release coming out of her achy hole.
Logan laid beside her, his chest rising and falling in time with her soft breaths. Evelyn rested her head against him, her hand splayed over his heart as though it belonged there. The warmth of her body pressed into his, and he tightened his arm around her, pulling her impossibly closer.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out as sleep began to claim her. Logan let his fingers trail lightly along her back, his touch lingering, savoring the moment.
For a long while, he simply stayed there, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
Eventually, his own eyes began to grow heavy, his mind and body at ease in a way he’d never thought possible. With Evelyn tucked safely against him, he let himself give in, falling into the pull of sleep.
Together, they drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber, tangled in each other’s arms, exactly where they were meant to be.
Chapter 8
______________________________________________________________--tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):
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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.
Icarian | L.H.
Chapter 1: Wildflower and Barley
"Springtime from my window. Another month has not much longer now. The sun hesitates more on each evening's darkening. Would all things god allows, remain above ground? Like grief and sweet memory, wildflower and barley." - Andrew Hozier Byrne
Prologue > Ch. 1 > Ch. 2
A/N: Thank you for the love on Nobody's Soldier! I plan on doing a taglist so comment or message to be added. Sorry this took so fucking long life was kicking my ass, I'll try to get chapters out as much as I can. I wanna make sure I give y'all some high quality stuff though. ANYWHOOOOO enjoy ch 1!! <3
Warnings: Fem!human reader, Logan has attatchment issues, Swearing, Mentions of religon, Jean Grey slander
WC: 9.5k
The only things you could hear were the light bristle of the trees and the occasional chirp of the birds. The smell of spring and promise of summer that came alongside it brought you more serenity than one could imagine. Especially when peace in your mind never meant much to you. It was seemingly impossible. But now, here, you finally felt it.
Of course, some days could be better than others. You still felt the lingering effects of all you’d been through in the back of your head. Their words, their actions, none of that truly ever went away. But spring brought in a form of quiet you hadn’t experienced- ever, and you could at the very least appreciate that.
The light warmth of the sun blessed your skin, the breeze made some stray strands of hair fall in front of your eyes. You’d made progress, and that was enough for you. You still were able to recall the days where being alone without brain stimulation was almost dangerous, the presence of a distraction was your lifeline more times than you could count. Those times were when the thoughts became too loud, and the noise- nothing short of overwhelming. Be that as it may, Charles’ mansion had gifted you a part of yourself that you never knew existed.
You never could express how grateful you felt, although the bastard probably already knew. Prodding around your head and all.
The distant laughing and shouting of the kids playing their games made you flutter your eyes open. A grin tugged at your lips due to the sound, simply seeing them happy made you happy in return. It reminded you of the better times, those rare moments when everything else had faded to nothing and all you were left with was joy.
However, the fragment of a memory wasn’t ever going to be enough to provide you with any lingering desire to return to that.
You slowly sat up, purposefully avoiding the dizziness you dreaded from lying down for a long period of time. You felt noticeably calmer than you were when you ventured outside in the first place. And as an added bonus: no feeling like the world was spinning on its axis.
You ran a hand through your hair to lazily brush it back to its original style. Allowing it to freely cascade down your back and frame your face. You then stood up, adjusting the waistband of your jeans and tugging your shirt back to a comfortable position. Cracking your neck and back, and leisurely picking up your belongings. Those being no more than a pair of headphones, a book, and a water bottle.
While you never really read, you enjoyed pretending to.
You casually strolled back to the mansion, a content manner about you. All you could think about was how much you loved spring and the way you had felt lighter on your feet. You couldn’t even remember why you were so furious in the first place-
Nevermind.
The second you opened the door to the back gardens. The one used specifically to enter and leave that part of the school. The weather damage and the grating sound when used was proof enough. That all went out the window.
Upon entering the school, you made eye- if you could even call it that- contact with the single soul responsible for said anger.
In an attempt to pass by him without a word, you swerved the other direction, keeping your chin held high. Your things were clutched close to your chest. It was in his best interest he didn’t speak to you, and yet- he still did.
Leave it to Summers to not take a fucking hint.
He said your name with an odd mix of assertive-caution. You rolled your lips and turned back to face him, finding yourself a good enough distance away that you could excuse yourself at any moment easily.
You can handle him. It’s fine.
“We need to talk.”
Or not.
The way he- without fail, managed to irritate you with a simple phrase was honestly impressive. If not for your underlying urge to break his goddamn nose.
“Not in the mood.” You replied shortly, rolling your shoulders backwards. A half-assed effort to prevent yourself from saying more.
“Don’t be like that.”
The both of you were honestly surprised you hadn’t made an attempt to take his life yet. You couldn’t help the involuntary raise of your brows at his tone. It was a silent warning- to him. You’d hoped he’d gotten the message.
“You know I just want what’s best for you-”
Shocker. He didn’t.
Blah blah, you tuned it all out as you typically did when he began his meaningless lectures with those 9 words. You were quite simple minded, conflict-wise. If you didn’t want to speak to someone, you didn’t. If they didn’t respect your request, you didn’t care to hear what they had to say. It’s just how you worked. He could at least try to accept that.
“Listen,” you started, cutting him off. It was better he quit, or forcefully resigned, while he was ahead.
“Last I checked, you’re not my dad. Or my older brother. Or any person that holds any type of authority over me in general. You don’t technically have a say in any fucking thing I do. That being said, if I do decide to go out on my own, it’s really none of your goddamn business. For your information, I simply asked out of basic respect for Charles. But I won’t. And I mean won’t, Scott, tolerate being talked down to because of something as basic as that. Understand?”
He cleared his throat, his expression hinted to you that your response was the absolute last thing he expected out of this conversation. You were normally a patient person, understanding even. It seemed he’d pushed you well beyond your limits. He opened his mouth to reply, to which he was cut off, yet again.
Except this time, it wasn’t you.
“Listen Slim, she asked ya to shut up. So for everyone’s sake, will ya?” And there, out of thin air, appeared Logan. You’d learned his name was, after the- very- brief interaction you’d had with him no more than a few days ago.
~
Scott obnoxiously cleared his throat, as he does when he’s uncomfortable. Or when the room’s attention is focused anywhere that’s not him and him alone.
Both you and Logan came back to your senses, you shook your head softly. Promptly clearing your mind of any wandering thoughts. Logan mentally facepalmed at his inability to keep his mood from switching so suddenly.
Not his fault you were fucking breathtaking. The man was practically rendered speechless. Still, he returned the scowl to his face, easy enough to do with Scott right there. He was extremely unwilling to let anyone know he was just about ready to plan your wedding in his head. That would stay locked away forever.
“Logan, what exactly do you need?” Scott questioned, his attitude even more disgusting with the new presence in the room, you’d noticed. You could metaphorically cut the tension between the two with a knife. But there you silently watched, as if it were your favorite reality show. Your arms stayed crossed in a subconscious state of defense, curious as to why this ‘Logan’ guy had to interrupt so overdramatically.
“Where’s Chuck?” Chuck? Who the fuck is-
Oh. Charles.
He’s one of those.
“Like I said before, what do you need?” Scott replied in a way that you could only equate to how parents speak to their children. Which seemed to irk Logan on even more than he already had been. “Ya ain’t the fuckin’ professor, Summers.” He responded with a tone that made you bite your bottom lip to hold in the laugh threatening to escape you. Despite your distaste towards the man for interfering in on your conversation, you had to admit that was kinda funny.
“‘M gonna ask ya one more time,”
And that was your queue to leave. You weren’t keen on fighting, or watching others fight. And you had a feeling staying there, blatantly eavesdropping, would result in something you didn’t want to be a part of. Especially with how big Logan was. Or with the way he was burning holes into Scott’s head and essentially growling with those last few words.
~
You let loose a sigh of relief, thankful that someone had stepped in. Finding yourself even more grateful that someone was Logan, who from the all of 5 minutes you’d heard him speak to Scott, knew how to put him in his place.
Most likely because Scott knew he’d end up with a broken rib, or 4.
“I’m just explaining-”
“Buddy,” Logan clapped his hand on the man's shoulder in the most sarcastic way he could. He treated Scott like a little kid. And in many ways, he may as well have been. “I’ve been hearin’ ya talk to yourself for the last like- 2 minutes. She clearly ain’t interested.”
To that, you snorted a small, tiny, miniscule laugh. One Logan, to your surprise, caught with a smirk. Whilst Scott was too wrapped up in his own humiliation to pay much attention to anything else. He brushed off Logan’s hand and muttered something that sounded- almost- like an apology to you, before scurrying away. Most likely to pester someone else about rules and whatnot. Seriously, how does the guy walk normally with that huge stick up his ass?
Logan folded his arms, running a hand down his face in a display of pure exhaustion before facing you. You snapped out of your daze, your eyebrows lifting to a softer, less agitated expression as you glanced up at the man.
Was he this tall when you last saw him?
You huffed a small laugh, and an appreciative smile graced your features. One Logan found more attractive than his conscious mind was willing to accept.
“Thanks,” You spoke up first, making his smirk widen just slightly. If you weren’t so observant, you wouldn’t have caught it. But you did, and it made your heart beat just a tiny bit faster.
“‘S no problem, darlin’.” He replied, making you bite the inside of your cheek in turn. The nickname didn’t go unnoticed, and yet all you could do was stand there and nod.
Fucking talk you moron.
Your inner thoughts shouted at you to say literally anything. But, with the intimidating presence in front of you, you couldn’t utter a string of words, let alone one single response. You opted for the easiest way out: a curt nod and walking the opposite direction of where you assumed he was headed. Avoiding this would make things easier, even if your room was on the entire other side of the building. (and you’d have to make a complete turn around once you were out of sight.)
However, his voice stopped you in your tracks. The smooth way he spoke made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at a full 90 degree angle. It was deep, rough, but gentle in a way you couldn’t put a finger on. Unique.
“Yeah?” You turned back over your shoulder at the call of your name. Your voice- by some miracle- projected the confidence you so severely lacked at that point in time. You patted yourself on the back for it, mentally.
How did he know that? The sound of those syllables coming from his mouth sent a harsh rush of warmth directly to your cheeks.
“Right?”
You couldn’t help but cock your head sideways. Completely clueless to whatever the hell he was talking about. Maybe you were too in your own world to hear him.
Damn it.
“Sorry, what?”
You felt idiotic, “what” being your response? The best you could give was that?
“Your name. That’s it, right?” He replied, chuckling to himself at your display of confusion. It was cute, that much he’d admit. For now.
“Oh,” The realization hit you like a brick wall to the face. “Yeah. Yeah that’s it.”
You scratched the back of your neck, taking a careful step towards where Logan stood, rooted in place. He carried himself with such a quiet confidence, something you’d admired right away. You had wondered what made him that way. Maybe the fact that he looked like he could throw you across the room and not break a sweat was a factor. Or maybe he was just that type of person. Or maybe it was all an act. But who were you to say?
He shot you a playful smirk and nodded in acknowledgement. You didn’t seem to notice the quick once-over he did, or maybe you just refused to come to terms with it, he thought. Surely you knew how gorgeous you were. There was no room for debate on that. He was enamoured with everything, your entire way about you, it was making him melt from the inside-out.
You felt the need to continue the conversation, to learn more about who he is. “You’re Logan?” You inquired, knowing damn well that of course, he’s Logan. Who else would he be?
Truthfully, it was the only string of coherent words that came to mind at the time.
“That’d be me, darlin’.”
There it was again.
Was he doing this on purpose?
From the wry look he gave you, the teasing glint in his eyes- he most certainly had been. And, matter of fact, he was enjoying it.
He liked the way your face flushed, the way your eyes widened slightly everytime a nickname fell from his lips. He wondered if you had never been shown that type of affection, one that most would brush past. You may not have noticed, but he sure as hell did. He found himself fond of the little quirks you had. Even after speaking to you for all of 10 minutes.
You nodded, pursing your lips to prevent the smile ready to likely invade your features regardless. You then bit your thumbnail, something you did when you were nervous, and glanced around the hall you were both in. Finding the wallpaper pattern suddenly more interesting than ever. The intruding thought of how awkward you had been took full control of your senses.
“How long’ve ya been here?” His voice broke through your thoughts- yet again. He, too, wasn’t quite ready to let go of this interaction.
You gave him a sidelong glance, a minor twitch of your lips signaled to Logan that you were just as intrigued as he was. Which then gave him all the confirmation he needed to take a calculated step towards you. Now at a much more comfortable distance, he could see the features of your face even closer. And fuck were you making it hard to keep it cool.
You shrugged slightly, your body didn’t move much, if at all. He was slowly coming closer, inch by inch. And somehow, you were completely okay with it. You welcomed it.
You turned your body to face him, fully. He was clad in nothing but a grey tank top that highlighted his muscles almost too perfectly, paired with a well worn pair of jeans, and a belt that had a large and slightly rusted buckle. He looked rugged, but effortlessly striking nonetheless.
Quit it.
Your brain needed to shut down those thoughts as fast as they started.
He, however, noticed the once-over you gave him. The way you took in his appearance- it made him bashful, almost. The inconsolable undertone of nervous-excitement that jolted through his body at the exchange was far from casual. He still, however, returned the gesture- a risky one at that. Though you didn’t seem to pick up on it. Once again.
It would frustrate him if he didn’t find this little game entertaining. But regardless, he undoubtedly found you wearing a simple pair of high-waisted and slightly baggy jeans with a basic white t-shirt all the more attractive.
“I think it’s coming up on five years now. That I’ve been here.”
He nodded, raising a brow at the response, visibly confused.
“What’s that look for?” You laughed, mirroring his expression more teasingly. You were quickly opening up to him. Small bits of your personality shining through the facade you hid behind. How he managed to do that? The answer was beyond your comprehension.
“Nothin’, doll. Jus’ seems like I woulda remembered ya.” His voice alluded to something more. Almost as if he were studying you. Trying to see through you- it felt. Or being suggestive, in a way. Was he flirting?
“When did you get here then? I’ve never seen you before.” You took another step forward, hesitantly. His eyes still scanned your exterior as if he was racking his brain to find any memory of you.
“‘Bout 7 or 8 years ago, seems like I’ve been missin’ ya though.”
You nodded, biting your cheek again. Unknowing of how to respond to something like that. You’d never seen or heard of him much prior to the interaction days ago. And you guaranteed you would have at some point. “Yeah, seems like.” You replied softly, now looking him over in the same manner.
Absolutely not a chance in hell you could’ve forgotten someone like him.
His demeanor changed just slightly. His face went from one of intrigue, to confusion, and finally, realization. Your heart began to race, you wondered if it was something you’d done. Already fucking up something that hadn’t even started, sounds like you.
“Sorry, doll. Prof’s callin’ for me.” He cut through your overthinking in a split second. You allowed a smile, one of relief, to cross your face. He found the sight endearing, noting the way you relaxed at his reassurance. He’d keep that in mind for later.
You hummed in understanding and stepped around him, “I’ll see ya around?” He asked, turning over his shoulder to look at you again, a ghost of a smile in return to yours.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you Logan.” You turned back around, walking with purpose to your room. The way you said his name- ever so sweetly- was sure to be on constant replay in his head for the remainder of the day.
Probably the rest of the week, if he was being honest with himself.
~
Logan didn’t bother to knock on Charles’ door. The man knew The Wolverine was on his way, he was bound to be prepared for the chaos that would ensue. He briskly slammed the door behind him with a deafening thud. Crossing the room in a few strides to finally stand in front of the professor’s desk. The moment he’d come all this way to fucking Westchester, New York for.
“No need for the dramatics, Logan-”
“Save it.” He cut past the small talk rather fast. He never had the time for that shit, and now less than ever. His arms folded in front of his chest defiantly with a distinguished scowl. His anger was more present, the venom in his tone was palpable.
“Why am I here?” He tapped his foot on the hardwood flooring, awaiting a response that was more than likely to piss him off more than he already had been. Charles still kept his composure, his unwavering patience working doubletime against Logan’s obvious agitation.
“I’m afraid you already know the answer to that, my boy.” Charles simply responded.
This fucker always had to talk in riddles.
He thought that mainly for himself but he was convinced Charles heard it as well. Simply based on the amused sparkle the old man had in his eyes. Even more to his irritation. He knew the professor found it entertaining. His inner dialogue would 100 percent get him locked away with anyone else, but the professor? He reveled in it. Some of his funniest memories were simply prodding around Logan’s mind. Logan knew this to be true, even through his denial of it.
“I don’t. ‘M not settlin’ down ‘ere. Quit askin’.” Logan huffed, not only at the idea but also the knowing look in Charles’ eyes. Always carrying himself like he’s more educated on something Logan didn’t quite understand yet. Which isn’t entirely untrue. He did carry one of the strongest minds in the world.
“What?” Logan regretted the word- immediately, he knew this man would have some smart reply. Some profound revelation that would have the power to turn his world upside down if he let it. Most times he couldn’t help it, it’s just who Charles was. And who he was: a telepathic genius with a blunt way of speaking. The two factors did little to counteract the other. Logan could appreciate these qualities in the man, he respected him for it. Most didn’t have the guts to tell Logan what they really thought about him. But Charles, he never so much as hesitated. However, when it was something Logan didn’t want to hear? Well, that very well was a foolproof plan to end in disaster.
“I believe you may have some reason to, after all.” The professor sat back in his chair, a lax smile still ever-present on his face. The sight making Logan feel small in his own body. Which was ironic for a man of his size. Logan rolled his eyes, scoffing in the process. No way Chuck was trying this.
“If you’re implyin’ what I think-”
“I’m simply speaking the truth, Logan. You have no need to worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Was he really kidding with him?
That had to be a fucking joke.
“‘M stayin’ until ya have another mission f’me, that’s it.” His words were short. He was beyond done with this conversation. The man was trying to get him to admit what? He wanted to be here? Logan knew better than that. Settling down would never be for him, it could never be for a man like him. He'd come back here for an assignment, take it, and leave. And the cycle would repeat until he decided it didn’t. That’s how things worked for him. On his terms, no one else’s. He wasn’t ready for all that. The emotional aspect of things, sacrificing his pride. For the sake of having a place to call home?
He’d rather be shot 47 times.
“You’re quite stubborn, you know,”
And he did, boy did he ever. That was the one thing he didn’t completely resent about himself, his ability to stand strong. But now, there he stood, waiting for the words that were inevitably about to leave the professor’s mouth. Good or bad, he was positive their small amount of time together would end there for the day.
“You and her have very much in common.”
Yeah, he was done.
He mumbled something to the effect of “‘M not fuckin’ dealin’ with this.” and exited the office less than quietly. The man had no right, especially peeking around in his head like that. And even if he claimed not to, there’s no chance in hell he would have brought that up with no rhyme or reason. Logan hoped to hell his thoughts about you were that loud, so loud the professor couldn’t help but call attention to them. But he knew, oh he knew that you were lingering longer than welcome in his head. And he also knew he wasn’t opposed to letting you stay there.
~
He grumbled to himself all the way to his room, only stopping for a second when he ran into Jean in the hall. For some odd reason, he always stopped to talk to her. Probably the need to impress her, the all but obvious crush he once had festering for the woman in front of him keeping him cemented to the ground whether he wanted to or not.
“Woah, there big guy.” She naturally took hold of both his broad shoulders and looked up at him with those eyes he’d found himself thinking of a little more than he should’ve in the past. She knew about this infatuation, and without a doubt, every time he came back it made waves in her’s and Scott’s relationship. Logan always noticed. Always.
Her teasing smile made his muscles contract just slightly more than they had been previously. He ran a hand through his hair and took a respectful step backwards. He muttered nothing more than a straightforward: “Jean.” To which she smiled at and crossed her arms in front of her, her tongue ran over her soft pink lips. He knew she did all of this on purpose, only wanting to get a rise out of him. It seemed like an urge she had. At least from what Logan observed. Like she needed to feel that power over him. She’d rejected him time and time again. Making it known she was only for Scott, yet he found himself back where he started once he’d returned. Every. Single. Time.
Which- may or may not be part of the reason he started coming around less and less in the last few years.
“What brings you back this time, huh?” She stepped towards him, cocking a brow out of curiosity. He’d hoped. “Chuck. Last mission ‘s done.” His tone was clipped, uninterested. Despite his former need to please her, the constant nagging to chase- he felt nothing. Much to his relief, and slight confusion. Jean, alternatively, wasn’t having any of it. He could tell by the sudden shift to her expression. He saw the way her eyebrows dropped and her posture slumped by just a little. Logan, well, he couldn’t have cared less. He was already pissed, the added pressure of her emotions was about as unappealing as they could be to him at the moment.
He tried- and failed, to take a swift step around her form. A shot at leaving her standing in the hall and heading to the confines of his room without so much as another word. All he wanted was somewhere he could close his eyes and take a fucking breath.
Seems like she had other plans.
“Are you upset with me?” Her voice was fake, oh so calculated. So unlike the version of her he’d gotten to know all those years ago. She’d changed so drastically since he had given up on the idea of them. Since he decided the hope of being more than friends was practically useless. He was nothing but a game to her, he knew that. He just took a long time to come to terms with it. But after the last time he’d come back, it sealed the deal. He was over it before anything had even started. For the better, of course. One of the rare occasions when he’d chosen the logical answer: his own sanity.
He turned his head slightly, not bothering to even make basic eye contact with her, and he responded assertively. “‘Ain’t doin’ this, Jean. We’re friends, keep it that way.”
And with that, he left her in the hall. He ignored the glaringly obvious strain of guilt gnawing at his gut for being so cold to the woman he once was convinced he had loved. A story for another day.
But he still couldn’t find it in himself to give enough of a shit to turn around.
~
You knew that it wasn’t a good idea. The minute you stepped foot outside the threshold of your room you wanted to abort the mission and go back inside. The warmth of your bed called to you like a siren. It was appealing, for once. The longing to stay home clawing at the inner workings of your mind. Yet, your own stubbornness had stopped you.
Typical.
Dressed in leggings and a black sweatshirt- a pathetic attempt at being stealthy, you made your way downstairs. You didn’t so much as take a breath, to your knowledge, when you made your descent. Managing to shock yourself with your unusual lack of clumsiness. Which was near impossible for you to achieve on a good day. The creak of the stairs, if any, was unnoticeable. Though your anxiety still got the better of you as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation of something- or rather someone, finding you. For some reason, you still continued forward. At this rate it was to rub the fact that you’d left successfully into Scott’s stupid face and nothing more.
Your keys were stuffed in your bra in hopes that it would muffle the sound of them jingling before you had pulled them out to get into your car. In retrospect, a ridiculous idea. No one would be awake at that hour.
Slowly but surely your sock-covered feet made contact with the mansion’s main floor. You allowed yourself to breathe a light sigh of relief. You’d made it one step farther. Although, your escapade was far from over.
Logan, ever the insomniac, heard you the instant you opened your bedroom door. His razor-sharp senses picked up on the smallest of sounds. Though involuntary, it did come in handy at times such as these. His head snapped from where he was idly watching the movie in front of him. Some bullshit about ‘little women’. Nothing he actually needed to think about, just a way of sidetracking his brain, whose thoughts were ever-present and frustrated him to no end.Because why would he even attempt to sleep after a day like today?
He slowly sat up from his otherwise comfortable position on the couch. Leaning closer, towards the sound of muffled shuffling and the distress of the old stairs. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he watched you make your way downstairs from the floor of which your room remained. He nearly chuckled at the sight of you looking like an amateur robber in action, completely oblivious to his intense stare.
He’d stop you, but he was enjoying this far more than that movie.
As you “silently” shuffled to the garage door, he figured it was time to step in. He respected you being an independent woman and all, but for your own safety he was fairly certain he should at least know where you were headed. He couldn’t have Scott on his ass knowing full well he let you just up and leave like that.
He gradually stood up, his stride not so much as taking you by any form of surprise when he saw you laugh to yourself in the seemingly safe space of the driver’s side of your car. He found it charming, even if he was five seconds away from scaring the lights out of you.
“Where ya headed?”
You shrieked, jumping back so far that you collided with the headrest. Hard enough for you to consider having a concussion. The asshole just watched and laughed. With your eyes tightly shut, you rubbed the back of your neck in a half assed effort to either soothe the oncoming headache or uncross your eyes. You weren’t quite sure which one it was.
“Christ..” You muttered, the expression more to yourself but Logan, of course, had heard. He found it even funnier than the original reaction he’d gotten out of you. A true, rumbling chuckle blessed your ears.
In turn, you lightly fluttered your eyes open, glancing over at the towering man staring down at you from the outside of the car. You blinked again, just to be sure that it wasn’t some odd hallucination. Or that your brain wasn’t damaged to the point of fully dreaming.
You opened the door, stepping outside of the car rather shamefully. You felt like a kid again, getting reprimanded by her mother. Your face was flushed full of embarrassment, and you kept your eyes to the ground. Not willing to see the look on Logan’s face at the moment.
“Don’t let me stop ya, bub. Jus’ heard somethin’ from the livin’ room ‘s all.”
Those words had you unable to resist lifting up your head to find a lighthearted expression on his face. He truly wasn’t mad or disappointed, like you expected him to be. And he genuinely had found the situation amusing, which seriously relieved the tension in your body. At least from what Logan had noticed.
You shook your head softly whilst directing your attention back towards the floor. You laughed purely in a self deprecating manner. “Was planning on sneaking out,” You muttered, coming to the realization that the phrase sounded even worse as you said it aloud. You were absolutely sure he thought you were acting like some rebellious teenager. When, in all reality, you had every right to come and go as you pleased. No questions asked.
“Dunno why, just needed an escape.” You lifted your shoulders in a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance. You felt the need to explain yourself, despite Logan’s lack of incessant questioning. You were used to a lengthy lecture or consistent interrogation from Scott, sometimes even Jean. It built nothing in your relationships except for resentment. Ororo handled things with grace, she’d always made you feel validated. She had a way of empathizing that the other two had lacked severely. If you’d had one person to call a true friend, it was her. All three of them were around your age, yet Scott and Jean still treated you like you were nothing but a liability. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. You’d asked for your freedom. As simple as that. Nothing more than the right to be your own person. And for some odd reason it always ended worse than it began. Needless to say, you’d given up on the dream. You instead focused on what you could control. Which unfortunately led to being generally lonesome in this place. These defenses were clear as day to Logan, but he refused to push you on them. He understood the frustration of being seen as someone unworthy of trust over their own facilities. He’d been experiencing his entire life. He rather simply allowed you to speak uninterrupted, and replied with nothing more than a nod when you were done. To your surprise.
“They don’t let ya out often?” He raised the question, he’d been genuinely curious to what the situation was. Was this what you and Scott were fighting over the other day? He didn’t have any need to let you know he was eavesdropping, but he’d assumed the latter. You didn’t come off as a difficult person, he doubted there had been much that you and Scott disagreed on. Or at least fought over. His assumption had been correct. Even if the man was insufferable.
“Don’t make it sound like I’m a patient in a ward, Logan.” You laughed at his choice of words. His own lips quirked into a soft smile and he uttered a gruff ‘sorry’ in return. You casually shut the door to the car, no longer careful of not being loud, and walked back inside the mansion. Promptly, and with significantly less caution than you’d had prior. Logan found your laid-back switch in demeanor compelling. He had to bite back a grin in admiration.
Nothing was really ever that deep to you.
You strolled back inside, Logan in tow beside you plainly. The silence between you two wasn’t awkward. It was simply a quiet that could be shared between people who have been friends for years. Who knew each other and were comfortable in that. And for someone on the outside looking in, it might’ve seemed that way.
“You’re watching Little Women?” You scoffed, a bemused laugh escaped you as you turned to Logan from the middle of the living area. He stood at the door, leaning against its frame with a deadpan expression. Trying his damndest to act serious, but when he saw the laugh you gave him, it chipped away his attitude immediately. The way you so effortlessly got under his skin was remarkable.
He grunted and pushed off the wall, stalking towards the couch. Lazily, he rounded it to flop back down onto the space he was resting moments before you showed up. Not that he was mad about it. You followed absentmindedly, your body sprawled out in a chair adjacent to him. You leant on one of the armrests, while your legs hung off the opposite comfortably. As if it were an everyday occurance. The act was domestic, natural. That had been the thing you’d predominantly picked up on with those minor interactions with Logan, no action was forced. Not to you at least. You didn’t know it, but he had thought the exact same.
You picked at the flaking polish on your nails whilst Logan sipped on the half empty bottle of beer he’d found in the very back of the fridge. He thanked himself silently for having left it there the last time he’d come back to the mansion. Beer had been one of the few items essential in his day-to-day life. No matter where he took residence. Addiction? No. Just a sense of consistency with something. It reminded him of a time he couldn’t necessarily put his finger on, with amnesia and all. But it felt like something he’d always done. Even with the nagging of Charles about his “No Drinking” policy.
Logan broke the silence with an annoyed grumble of “This movie’s bull.” To which you gasped in dramatic horror. It made Logan’s head snap your direction, unsure of what the hell he’d done to set off that reaction. As he met your eyes, he was relieved to see the playful smirk on your face. Obviously playing up your surprise, but you looked offended nonetheless.
“You don’t like Little Women?” Your eyebrows knit together. Your hand laid flat on your chest in a manner that made him snort a very brief laugh while he placed his beer back on the coffee table in front of him. He liked that you made him laugh. And it was never forced, he wasn’t the type to fake something to spare another person’s feelings. He gradually switched his attention between you and the movie, folding his arms and relaxing back into the sofa with a huff. “Jus’ ain’t gettin’ the point.”
You all but exaggerated an eye roll, which made him smirk all the wider. You scoffed, responding in the most matter-of-fact tone he’d ever heard. “The point, Logan, is to show the lives of these people. How they went from girls to women. It’s empowering. And that doesn’t even begin to explain the majority of the movie.” You explained, which had succeeded in intriguing him, though he tried not to show it. He followed, rolling his eyes in the same exaggerated way you’d done, and scoffed to himself.
“Empowerin’ my ass. I still don’t get it.”
You groaned in mock annoyance, but you actually enjoyed telling him these things. You loved when you could banter and your counterpart could keep up. And you loved even more that he let you talk, and he asked intelligent questions. He was a great listener. Even if you didn't necessarily realize it was because you were someone worth listening to.
It goes without saying that the majority of that night involved explaining the plot of Little Women to Logan. And him finding he did like the movie, after you’d talked him through it of course.
Though, he may have only liked it because you looked so happy to talk about it.
~
It was well past 4 A.M. when you and Logan had simultaneously decided it was about time to go your separate ways and attempt to sleep. You’d highly doubted that you’d get any type of beneficial rest at this point, but you were willing to at least try.
Your more frequent yawns and half-lidded eyes were a distinct indicator to Logan that you were ready to break off and head to bed. But, on the contrary, you were hesitant to end this- thing. Whatever it was. You really enjoyed his company, and he, yours. There was no need for deep talks, no pressure on gauging the other person’s thoughts, just getting to know each other on the most basic of levels. It was refreshing.
After he- reluctantly- admitted to liking the movie, you continued to speak about everything and nothing. The conversation ranged from music taste, to books, to debating over who the best 70’s rock band was, and even sharing the tiniest crumbs of your inside life. By tiny, it was literally nothing more than he already knew. And vice versa.
And while you both didn’t want to admit it, you felt yourselves craving to know each other on a deeper level.
Logan, always and forever being the gentleman, insisted on escorting you to your room. The gesture was nothing but innocent. And a way to spend more time around you. It was pretty late- or really early, after all. He cared for your safety, as he did everyone’s. He tried to rationalize with himself that that was the reason he’d offered.
Maybe part of him also wanted to know where you stayed.
Much to his disappointment, his room was on a completely different floor. Maybe he’d see if someone wants to switch with him. You guys could end up being good friends, what’s the harm? What if you’d needed something in the middle of the night?
He would, however, keep those thoughts to himself. He was a bit obsessive, maybe a hint of possessive, but all in good conscience. He did have some animalistic tendencies after all. Who could blame him? Your presence was intoxicating. He was addicted to your laugh, your voice, your scent, just- you.
“‘Night, sweetheart,” He placed a hand on the doorframe, a small distance from where you stood in the doorway. You smiled ever so delightfully upwards. Eyeing his towering figure in front of you. You found the man- who not even 72 hours ago you thought to be intimidating and slightly off-putting, now charming and someone you were willing to get to know.
He returned your expression, a hint of a smile dusting over his strong features. The soft look he’d had in his eyes made your heart melt, though you made the excuse that he was just tired. It couldn’t possibly be anything else, right?
No.
The nickname, on the other hand, would have you giggling to yourself once he was out of earshot.
“G’night, Logan. I’ll see you around?” You asked almost casually, but the hope in your tone didn’t pass by his notice. He felt his heart clench involuntarily in his chest, like a damn lovesick fool. He nodded, attempting to play it cool. He couldn’t have you know you were the first person his heart raced at the idea of seeing again since he’d lived in that god-forsaken place.
“Yeah, see ya ‘round.” His voice was soft, saying your name. But rough in a sense of a serene thunderstorm. The type of sound that could lull you to sleep. And you’d let it happen.
You quietly stepped backwards into the confines of your room, smiling sleepily as he walked away. You shut the door. Sighing to yourself, and flopped face-first onto your bed. You expected tonight to go so much differently than it did, but you weren’t exactly upset at the outcome. In fact, you were more than giddy he’d caught you leaving earlier. A flutter of something you weren’t quite ready to admit yet crossed your heart and face when the memory popped back into your head.
You attempted to sleep. Which you deemed near impossible after 5 minutes of tossing and turning. Instead, you opted for spending the remainder of the night binging some comedy show on your TV and drifting back to the thought of Logan.
Were you really that down bad already?
He, luckily, wasn’t any better off. The absolute second he left your presence and the hallway where you resided. He all but dragged his feet to his own door. He longed to go back to you. To talk to you, make you laugh. It was a strange feeling, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever known. Which, for having been alive for well over a century, was saying something. He would refuse to speak that into existence. The words would stay locked away in the depths of his soul until further notice. He didn’t want that mess of emotions, despite how drawn he was to you. He knew already that you deserved someone that would be a match for you. Someone sweeter. Someone to rely on, to fall for truly. Someone that doesn’t have as much baggage as a hotel lobby. He didn’t think he could ever be that, for anyone. No matter how hard he may have tried. And he surely couldn’t ruin you like that, you were too heavenly. Too angelic.
Nonetheless, those ideas wavered and he’d had a restful sleep for the first time in years that night.
~
The gentle call of your name stirred you awake. You fluttered your eyes open the slightest bit.
“Hey,”
You squinted, the sun unforgivingly shone directly into your line of vision. You rubbed your eyes, mumbling incoherently. Slowly, you sat up and took in your surroundings.
Shit.
You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch earlier in the day.
Seeing as you didn’t sleep a wink last night, your current state made perfect sense.
As you looked around, sleep addled as ever. You noted that you were, in fact, in the living room. Resting on the same couch Logan had been talking to you from the night prior.
Now why the fuck was he your first waking thought?
“Glad you’re back. The hell were you sleepin’ on the couch for, doll?” You snapped your head to the sound of the voice. A wave of nausea hit you as the blood rushed to your head. And lo and behold, it had to be Logan, standing behind your choice of a bed for the day with a concerned furrow of his eyebrows. His voice, however, held a hint of amusement that made you huff a laugh- even having been as exhausted as you were.
You ran a hand through your tousled hair. Surely, you’d have to have looked disheveled. It just had to be him who found you this way. Lucky you.
“I, uh,” You yawned, in spite of the hard nap you’d just taken. Kneading your closed eyelids with your knuckles. You scrunched your nose and blinked up at him. Caught completely off guard with the way he was looking at you.
He found it adorable.
“Didn’t sleep last night, guess I did here. Is it still Tuesday?” You wondered aloud, which made Logan chuckle deeply. The sound sent a shiver down your spine.
“Still Tuesday. What’d ya stay up for?” He spoke as moved from behind the couch and sat on the other side of it. You pulled your legs into yourself to make room for him, as you were just fully taking up the space a moment before. He would’ve been fine had you stayed in that position. Much to his surprise since he’d hated physical contact.
“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrug, your vague response made his amused smirk slightly drop from his face. He leaned back with narrow eyes, giving you that familiar look. The one that made it seem like he was trying to read your mind. It made you nearly crack a smile. Was he really that concerned?
“’S real vague, darlin.”
To which you laughed softly in response. Lowering your head back on the armrest to look at the ceiling. The relaxed smile on your face was unwavering, guess that just reflected your emotions around him.
“Well.. I wasn’t going to blame anyone,” You started, making Logan raise an eyebrow in amusement. The sight made your stomach flip. Somehow every expression he’d made only enhanced his attractiveness.
“But, someone kept me up all night talking.” You finished, nudging his thigh playfully with your foot. You weren’t entirely sure what made you so willing to act in such a way. But he didn’t feel like a stranger, and you took that as an invitation. Logan, with his quick reflexes, caught your ankle. Making you breathe out a small gasp followed by your radiant smile. He then tightened his grip ever so slightly, noting that you didn’t attempt to pull away.
“That so?” He taunted in return, the playful back and forth turning into something more. Something charged, unspoken. The tension between you both was clear.
“Mhm,” Was all you could reply, through the fit of laughter you were desperately trying to suppress with a tight-lipped smile. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, only to be met with an even stronger hold on your poor ankle. He was still gentle, not on any mission to hurt you. Ever. He had unbelievable strength, that much was obvious by his toned muscles that were unnoticeable. The way his large, calloused hand completely engulfed your ankle had your mind- and heart, thudding out of your chest.
He could hear it, too. It only stirred him on more.
He practically dragged you towards him, his own boisterous chuckle added to your light giggling. A symphony that was more beautiful than the pearly gates of heaven themselves.
Whilst caught up in your play-fighting, if you could even call it that. More or less a battle you were bound to lose. You’d failed to notice the figure that was lurking in the hallway.
Jean had heard Logan’s laugh, a very rare one at that, from down the hall. Not to mention the way your own mind was screaming with unexpressed affection. A sentiment that was sure to bubble to the surface at some point, though you forced it into your subconscious.
Jean walked with a stride so light that even Logan with his sharp senses couldn’t pick up the faint click of her heels. She stopped abruptly when she caught a glimpse of the scene in front of her. It made her stomach churn with a sickening jealousy. So this had been why he disregarded her that easily. The reminder of her sour exchange with Logan only added fuel to the fire. She’d been dwelling on it for days. It was an unfamiliar territory, the lack of two men’s attention. The constant chase and the way she’d had him wrapped around her finger.
Logan was so caught up in that moment with you that he couldn’t even pay attention to his surroundings. That of which included the unmistakable scent of Jean’s floral perfume. The smell was pungent, often overwhelming to the average person. Let alone someone who could find things like that from miles away. Logan ignored it all those times for the sake of being around her. It wasn’t impossible, not when he found her being there otherwise entertaining. Or comforting. He wasn’t sure.
But now, seated next to you. So intensely captured by what you offered. He wouldn’t dare to compare you to her. He’d realized then that Jean never gave him comfort. What he felt around her was never comfortable, this was.
Nothing had ever come so easily to him, never in his life.
Jean, opposed to whatever you two had been feeling, had used his distraction to take advantage of him. Prying around in his head for a nanosecond. He was unbelievably sensitive to that type of thing, she knew better than to try something like that. But she just wanted an idea of what was going on. Evidently unhappy with what she found, she shut the investigation down immediately.
She masked her frustration with somewhat contentedness, purposefully interrupting the pure exchange happening between you and Logan. With a smile, that is.
“Having fun?” She asked from behind the couch, where Logan was before moving to be closer to you. Her voice was saccharin, laced with hostility. Logan’s smile instantly dropped at the recognition of her voice. With a clear expression of agitation, he silently let go of you. At the loss of contact, you readjusted yourself, trying to regain your composure as well as possible.
The very obvious red flush on your cheeks made it difficult.
“Somethin’ ya need?” Logan questioned with no shot at patience, he knew Jean all too well. Yet, he was in no rush to jump back into her good graces. Which was unlike his former need to please her. He used to be by her side at the drop of a hat, ready to give or do anything for her to give him a fighting chance. He had realized it was a lost cause long before she’d caught on, clearly.
“Professor wants you.” She stated, with a pointed look in her eyes as she averted her gaze to you. You stood up, collecting your bearings briskly with a bewildered look on your face. Jean simply shrugged, a half-hearted effort to seem clueless. Though Logan’s glare towards her was unforgettable.
If looks could kill. You thought.
You then excused yourself quietly, but with grace. You weren’t scared of the professor, and you sure as shit weren’t scared of Jean. Her ulterior motives meant nothing to you. You and her never had been more than acquaintances. You were civil with her as she was with you, and that was the extent of your relationship.
Logan’s eyes followed your figure desperately. His body deflated as you retreated from the room. Your warm nature replaced with a chill. He swore the room lost its color when you left, and he’d hoped you were as disappointed as he was for being interrupted.
He shot to his feet when he was sure you were out of earshot. His problems with Jean began long before he knew you. He was well-aware you weren’t to blame for any of this, and he was intent on making sure you found out about their history on his terms. Not through any of Jean’s petty antics.
“Logan, wait.” She pleaded, her voice much less harsh. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with an exasperated breath. His knuckles turned white with the clench of his fists.
“What,” He turned slowly, his strong eye contact making Jean wince. They both knew what she was doing, and Logan, most of all, knew damn well he wasn’t about to let that go. He could hold a grudge. And in this case, he had every right to.
“Y’know what, no. I don’t got any time for this.” He waved her off as he decided he wasn’t in the mood for her groveling. Without a second glance, he left her to stand alone in the living room. His frustration was evident, his anger resurfaced. Damn her for ruining the little slice of happiness he’d gotten.
He was sick of it. Beyond through with the immaturity of her actions. Every memory came flooding back. Each thing he’d let go with an excuse. Every time he apologized for something she had been at fault for. He-
“Hey! Wait.” He sighed when he heard a breathless voice moving in his direction. Exasperated, he shifted to see who needed his attention now.
Suddenly, the cloud above his head dissolved into the sky and the gentle gaze returned to his eyes.
God, you were gonna be the death of him.
“Professor didn’t need much, figured we weren’t done talking.” You caught up to him, slightly red in the face and still attempting to catch your breath. And he found you beautiful. Even more so, in earnest.
“If you want to hang around me, that is.” You finished, a teasing way of hiding the regret you’d felt for the rambling you’d just tortured him with. He simply looked at you, tracing every detail of your face. Committing you to memory. You had to be an angel. A sweet temptation sent there to ruin him.
You were unable to decipher what the hell the man was thinking due to the fact that he hadn’t spoken yet. Maybe you came off as desperate, you did run back here to find him, anyways. Oh fuck, what if-
“‘Course I do, sweetheart. Nowhere I’d rather be, if ‘m bein’ honest.”
He’d fallen into step with you easily, his reply caused your lips to break into the most shit-eating grin. You’d be embarrassed, if only he wasn’t looking at you in the way he was. Like you’d just given him the fucking moon.
Hell, you already felt more important to him than you’d ever felt to anyone in your life.
if you haven't read this, do it. right now.
Chapter 8: Unfinished Business
Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: none.
A/N: Alright, here we are—Chapter 8. The one I’ve been lowkey (okay, highkey) dreading. If you’ve made it this far, first of all, I love you. Second, please remember that I write with love, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
This chapter is a lot. It shifts things, breaks things, and maybe hurts a little more than it should. Just know that every word was intentional, and no, I don’t take joy in your suffering (okay, maybe a little, but only in a writerly way).
So, deep breaths. Read when you’re ready. And if you need to yell at me afterward, my inbox is open.
Word count: 8.5k
© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.
The cottage was filled with the quiet sounds of preparation—the faint click of a cassette case, the rustle of fabric as Evelyn folded clothes into her suitcase. Outside, the wind carried a bite that seeped into the wooden frame of the house, but inside, the warmth of the fire kept the chill at bay.
Logan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, silently watching her. His flannel shirt was unbuttoned over a plain henley, the leather jacket hanging from the back of a chair. His gaze was steady but soft, like he was taking in every detail to tuck it away for later.
“You really think all that’s gonna fit in one bag?” he asked, his voice low and carrying the faintest trace of amusement.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’d be amazed at what I can cram into a suitcase.”
Logan raised a brow, pushing off the frame to walk closer. “Not sure I’d call it a skill worth braggin’ about.”
She rolled her eyes, returning to folding her clothes. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Minimalist. Not all of us can live out of a duffle bag.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands slipping into his jeans’ pockets as he glanced at the mixtapes stacked neatly beside her bag. “You takin’ all those with you, or you just makin’ it harder to close that thing?”
“They’re essentials,” she said, mock-serious as she tucked a couple into the suitcase. “I’m not about to risk getting stuck with my mom’s radio choices for a whole week.”
Logan smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Can’t blame you for that.”
The playful rhythm of their banter quieted as Evelyn zipped up the suitcase, the moment settling into something softer. Logan reached over to grab something from the arm of the couch—a thick, worn sweater—and held it out to her.
“Here,” he said, his voice lower now. “This’ll keep you warmer than whatever you got packed.”
Evelyn blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. She took the sweater, her fingers brushing his as their eyes met. “Logan, I can’t take this. It’s yours.”
“Yeah, and I’m tellin’ you to take it,” he replied, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Don’t argue. Just don’t forget to bring it back.”
Her chest tightened at the unspoken care in his voice. “Alright,” she said softly, folding the sweater and placing it on top of her suitcase.
When everything was packed, they walked out to her truck together, the cold air biting at their faces. Logan stayed close, his hand brushing against her lower back as they crossed the gravel.
As she opened the truck door, Logan lingered, leaning a shoulder against the frame. “You sure you’re good drivin’ this long on your own?”
Evelyn laughed softly, turning to face him. “Logan, it’s a few hours.”
“Doesn’t mean I gotta like it,” he muttered, his tone quiet but firm. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the words he didn’t say filled the space between them.
She smiled, stepping closer. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll call when I get there, okay?”
Logan’s hand came up, brushing against her arm before moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along her skin. “You better,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was slow and steady, as though he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. Her hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.
When they finally broke apart, she exhaled softly, her forehead resting against his. “You’re making it really hard to leave, you know that?”
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his smirk returning. “Good. Might make you think twice about goin’ next time.”
She rolled her eyes, stepping back with a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.
Climbing into the truck, Evelyn started the engine, the rumble breaking the stillness of the moment. As she pulled away, Logan tapped the roof lightly, his hand lingering there for a second longer than necessary. He watched her until the taillights disappeared down the winding road, the cold air biting at his skin as he stood there, alone but somehow content.
The road stretched out before Evelyn, the winter sun casting long shadows across the frost-dusted trees. The faint hum of the cassette player filled the cab, a mixtape she’d thrown together for the drive keeping her company. But even with her favorite songs spinning through the speakers, her mind drifted back to Logan—the warmth in his gaze, the rough gentleness in his touch, and the way his smirk softened into something almost shy when she kissed him goodbye.
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. He had a way of sticking with her, even when he wasn’t around.
The familiar sight of her parents’ house came into view, a two-story colonial tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The front lawn was adorned with Christmas lights and a plastic Santa that had seen better days, its red suit faded by years of winter storms. Pulling into the driveway, Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Home.
Stepping inside, Evelyn was immediately wrapped in the warm embrace of home. The living room smelled of pine and cinnamon, the Christmas tree shimmering with mismatched ornaments that had been collected over decades. Her dad sat cross-legged in front of the TV, muttering under his breath as he fiddled with the VCR. Meanwhile, her mom moved between the kitchen and the dining room, her apron streaked with flour and her hair pinned up in the way she always wore it when things got hectic.
“There she is!” her dad called out, looking up with a wide grin as Evelyn stepped into the room. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way back.”
“Or decided not to come at all,” her mom added, bustling into the living room with a tray of cookies. Her eyes softened as she set the tray down on the coffee table. “How was the drive, sweetheart?”
“Long,” Evelyn admitted, shrugging off her coat. “But it’s good to be home.”
Her dad stood, dusting his hands off and pulling her into a brief but tight hug. “Glad you made it safe. Car still holding up?”
“Barely,” she joked, earning a laugh from him.
Her mom was next, wrapping Evelyn in a flour-scented embrace before stepping back to study her. “You look good,” she said, her tone both approving and surprised. “The fresh air out there must be doing wonders.”
“It helps,” Evelyn replied with a small smile. “How’s everything been here?”
“Oh, you know,” her dad said, gesturing to the VCR. “Just trying to keep up with the latest technology. This thing refuses to cooperate.”
Her mom rolled her eyes. “He’s been saying that about every gadget we’ve had since the coffee maker broke in ‘68.”
The light-hearted conversation drifted into updates on family friends, neighborhood gossip, and holiday plans. Her mom filled her in on the latest drama from the church choir, while her dad complained about the new neighbors who always parked too close to his driveway.
The comforting aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked rolls filled the kitchen as Evelyn tied an apron around her waist. Her mom stood at the counter, chopping carrots with precise movements, while her dad rummaged through a cabinet, muttering under his breath about the missing gravy boat.
“You sure you’re up for peeling these?” her mom asked, nodding toward the bowl of potatoes on the table.
“I think I can handle it,” Evelyn replied with a teasing smile as she picked up the peeler. “It’s not rocket science, mom.”
Her dad turned from the cabinet, holding up the gravy boat triumphantly. “Found it! Knew it wasn’t lost.”
Her mom shook her head with a fond smile. “You always say that, dear.”
“Because I’m always right,” he shot back, winking at Evelyn as he set the boat on the counter. “How’s that cottage of yours holding up? Pipes not freezing, I hope.”
“Not yet,” Evelyn replied, focusing on the potato in her hand. “Logan’s been helping me keep it in shape. Fixed the roof, patched up some leaks...”
“So,” she began casually, though her tone betrayed her eagerness. “How’s life been out there? Are you settling in okay?”
Evelyn nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of her sweater. “Yeah, it’s been good. Quiet, but... good.”
“And the town?” her dad asked, leaning against the armrest. “People treating you alright?”
“They are,” Evelyn said with a faint smile. “It’s a nice place. Small, but the kind of small where everyone knows everyone.”
Her mom’s eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of teasing in her expression. “And Logan? How’s he treating you?”
“Mom,” Evelyn said, her cheeks warming.
“What?” her mom replied innocently, her hands spreading wide. “We’ve heard all about this Logan—well, from Martha mostly—but we haven’t met him yet. We’re allowed to be curious.”
Before Evelyn could reply, a familiar voice chimed in from the couch. “Good point, Mrs. Bennette,” Martha teased, leaning back with a knowing smirk. “I’m starting to think you made him up just to keep us guessing.”
“Martha!” Evelyn exclaimed, her face lighting up as she turned to see her best friend leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous grin.
“I mean, is he a man or a myth? Because I’m starting to think she made him up.” said Martha playfully.
Rolling her eyes, Evelyn set the peeler down. “He’s real. He’s just busy this time of year.”
“Busy chopping wood?!?” Martha teased, earning a laugh from her dad.
Her dad laughed. “Now that’s a proper job.”
“Actually, yes,” Evelyn replied, pulling off her apron. “Now, if you’re done making jokes...”
“Not a chance,” Martha said, leaning against the counter, a smile tugging at her lips. “Speaking of Logan, I thought he’d have come with you. But hey, do you have a picture of him? We’ve heard so much about him, but we need the proof before I can say he’s real.”
Evelyn hesitated for a moment before reaching into her bag. She pulled out the polaroid she had taken of Logan and handed it over.
Martha let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. You weren’t exaggerating. He looks like he stepped out of a western.”
Her dad leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the photo. “Looks like he knows his way around an ax.”
“Oh, he does,” Evelyn said, her smile softening.
Her mom took the photo, studying it closely before handing it back. “Alright. He passes the first test. But we still want to meet him.”
“You will,” Evelyn promised, tucking the photo back into her bag.
“Good,” her mom replied. “Because we just want to make sure he’s the real deal. Especially after... you know.”
Martha nudged her. “When’s the wedding?”
“Oh, stop,” Evelyn said, laughing.
The laughter and teasing flowed effortlessly as dinner approached. The dining room was warm and inviting, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off garlands draped along the edges of the table. Plates of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and cranberry sauce were passed around as conversations overlapped in the way only family meals could.
“Alright, so what’s new with the neighbors?” Evelyn asked, spearing a bite of turkey.
Her dad rolled his eyes dramatically. “New folks moved in last month, parked their moving truck right across our driveway for two hours. Two. Hours.”
Her mom sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, leave them alone, Frank. They’re nice kids.”
“Kids who don’t know how to park,” her dad muttered, earning a chuckle from Evelyn.
Across the table, Martha chimed in. “Still better than the guy who let his dog dig up your flowerbeds last year.”
“Don’t remind me,” her mom said, groaning. “That man owes me an apology—and a hydrangea.”
The lighthearted banter carried on, giving Evelyn a moment to soak it all in. It wasn’t just the conversation or the food—it was the feeling of being surrounded by people who knew her so deeply, even the parts she tried to keep hidden.
The fire in the living room crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was late, the kind of quiet that only settled after a long day. Evelyn and Martha were cocooned under a heavy knit blanket, their mugs of cocoa sending curls of steam into the cool air. Bing Crosby crooned softly from the record player, a fitting backdrop for the cozy scene.
Martha took a sip of her cocoa, her mischievous grin already in place. “Alright, enough stalling. You and Logan. Speak.”
Evelyn groaned, tilting her head back against the couch. “Why did I know this was coming?”
“Because I’m me, and you knew I wouldn’t let you off the hook.” Martha set her mug down on the coffee table, turning to face her with an expectant look. “So, what’s the deal? I need details. Is he as rugged and mysterious as the picture made him look?”
A smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips as she swirled the cocoa in her mug. “He’s... everything I didn’t know I needed. He’s steady, patient, and...”
“And?” Martha arched a brow, leaning closer. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
Evelyn exhaled, her voice softening. “And he makes me feel safe.”
The teasing faded from Martha’s expression, replaced by something warmer, more sincere. “That’s good, babe. That’s really good.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of those words settling between them. Martha reached for her mug again, taking a slow sip before breaking the stillness. “So... have things gotten serious yet? You know, serious?”
Evelyn nearly choked on her cocoa, setting the mug down hastily. “Martha!”
“What? It’s a fair question!” Martha held up her hands, feigning innocence. “I mean, you’ve been seeing this guy for months now, and from what I can tell, he’s the real deal. So, have you...?”
Evelyn shook her head, her cheeks warming. “We’re taking it slow.”
“Slow as in...?”
“Slow as in I want to be sure.” Evelyn picked at the edge of the blanket, her voice quiet but firm. “After everything with... you know who, I can’t just rush into something like this. I need to know it’s real.”
Martha nodded, her teasing replaced by understanding. “And he’s okay with that?”
“He is.” A small smile crept across Evelyn’s face. “He’s patient. He doesn’t push. He just... gets it.”
“Sounds like a keeper to me.” Martha leaned back, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “But don’t let your nerves mess this up. The guy sounds like he’s crazy about you.”
Evelyn let out a soft laugh, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him.”
“You think?” Martha shot her a look. “Babe, you’re head over heels, and everyone but you can see it.”
“That’s what scares me,” Evelyn admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What if I get it wrong again?”
Martha reached over, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not getting it wrong. Not this time. This Logan guy? He sounds like he’s in it for the long haul. And from what you’ve told me, he’s exactly what you deserve.”
Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding slowly. “Thanks, Martha.”
“Always.” Martha leaned back with a content sigh. “Now, do me a favor and bring him around next time, okay? I need to see if he lives up to the hype in person.”
Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it.” Martha shot her a wink, pulling the blanket tighter around them.
As the fire burned low and the record spun to its final song, Evelyn felt the tentative stirrings of hope. Maybe this Christmas wasn’t just about coming home. Maybe it was about finding a new one, too.
The bedroom was dim, the moonlight spilling through the curtains casting faint silver streaks across the walls. Evelyn shifted restlessly under the covers, her thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles. She missed Logan—his steady presence, his warm touch, the way his voice had a way of grounding her when her mind wandered too far.
Her gaze drifted to the rotary phone on the nightstand. The pull to hear his voice was stronger than her hesitation, and before she could second-guess herself, she reached for the receiver and dialed the number.
The line rang a few times before a familiar gruff voice answered, tinged with sleep but still unmistakably him.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks warm even though he couldn’t see her. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
A soft huff of amusement came through the line. “No. What’s on your mind?”
She hesitated for a moment, twisting the cord around her fingers. “I just... couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe talking to you might help.”
There was a pause on the other end, and she could almost picture him sitting up in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did. “Missin’ me already?” he teased lightly, though the warmth in his voice sent a soothing ache through her chest.
“Maybe,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “How about you?”
“Wouldn’t be answering the phone at this hour if I wasn’t,” Logan replied, the hint of a smirk audible in his tone.
She laughed softly, the tension in her chest loosening slightly. “My parents and Martha have been asking about you, you know. You’re kind of a big deal around here now.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice carried a lazy curiosity. “What’re they sayin’?”
“Well, my mom wants to know when you’re coming to meet them,” she said, her smile widening. “And Martha... she was pretty convinced I made you up until I showed them the Polaroid.”
“The Polaroid?” Logan’s voice shifted, a touch of playful exasperation creeping in.
“Yes, that one,” she replied, grinning.
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Didn’t know I was on display.”
“You weren’t,” she teased. “It’s just... they’re curious. My mom said you pass the first test, by the way. But they still want to meet you.”
“Figured as much,” he said, his voice softer now. “How’d you handle all the questions?”
“I survived,” she said, letting out a small laugh. “But I think they’re just worried. After everything that happened... they just want to make sure I’m okay. And that I’m not making a mistake.”
Logan was quiet for a moment before speaking, his tone steady but filled with quiet conviction. “You’re not makin’ a mistake, darlin’. Not with me.”
Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the noise in her mind faded, leaving only the sound of his voice. “I know,” she said softly. “But hearing you say it helps.”
“Good,” he replied. “’Cause I mean it.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the line connecting them across the miles. Finally, Logan spoke again, his voice tinged with amusement. “Anything else you wanna tell me? Or you just callin’ to butter me up?”
“Actually,” she said, smiling, “I just missed you. And the sound of your voice.”
“Yeah, well,” Logan said, his voice low and warm, “you keep talkin’ like that, you’ll have me drivin’ out there tonight.”
She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “I’d better let you get some sleep, then.”
“You sure?” he asked, his tone softening.
“I’m sure,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Good night, Logan.”
“Good night, Evelyn,” he murmured. “Call if you need me. Anytime.”
As the call ended, she set the receiver back on the cradle, her heart feeling lighter. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she closed her eyes, the memory of his voice lingering in the stillness.
The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the furnace and the occasional clatter of dishes as Evelyn moved through the kitchen. She’d been trying to keep herself busy, but her thoughts kept drifting—to Logan, to the cottage, and to how strange it felt to be back in her childhood home for so long.
Her mother’s soft cough echoed from the living room, pulling her from her thoughts. Peeking around the corner, Evelyn saw her mom bundled under a quilt, her head resting against the arm of the couch. Her dad was in his armchair, snoring lightly, the TV playing a muted rerun of a Christmas movie.
Evelyn smiled faintly before stepping back into the kitchen. She was just about to start chopping the rest of the carrots when the phone rang, startling her. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and picked up the receiver, the old rotary clicking slightly as she adjusted her grip.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Logan’s voice rumbled on the other end, warm and steady. “Caught you at a bad time?”
The tension in her shoulders eased immediately, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not at all. How are you?”
“Still in one piece,” he replied, his tone light but tinged with something softer. Figured I’d check in, see how Christmas went.”
Evelyn glanced toward the living room, where her dad sat fiddling with the knobs on the TV, and her mom rested on the couch with a blanket draped over her lap. “It was nice. Quiet. A little different, though, being back here for so long.”
“Different good or different bad?” Logan asked.
“Good,” she said quickly, then hesitated. “Mostly good. Just... takes some getting used to.”
Logan hummed in understanding. “Glad you made it through, anyway.”
“What about you?” she asked, her voice softening. “How was yours?”
“Spent it with Pete and his family,” he said, the faintest hesitation in his voice. “His wife insisted I stay for dinner. Kids roped me into playin’ some board game. Don’t ask me what it was—I’m pretty sure they made up half the rules as they went.”
She laughed softly, picturing Logan sitting awkwardly at a cluttered table, kids climbing over him while he tried to make sense of the chaos. “Sounds like you were the life of the party.”
“Hardly,” he muttered, but there was a faint chuckle beneath his words. “Pete’s wife sent me home with leftovers, though. Guess I didn’t screw up her kitchen too bad when I was helpin’ her cook.”
“You cooked?” Evelyn asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Mostly peelin’ potatoes,” Logan admitted. “But she didn’t throw me out, so I’ll call it a win.”
Evelyn shook her head, grinning. “Sounds like you had a better time than you’re letting on.”
“Maybe,” he said, and for a moment, there was a quiet warmth in his voice that made her chest tighten.
Evelyn’s smile softened, her heart giving a small, unsteady thud. “And the cottage? Holding up without me?”
“It’s lonely,” Logan teased, though there was a hint of truth in his words. “Roof’s still got that damn leak, but I’ll take care of it.”
“Maybe it’s waiting for me to come back,” she quipped, though her voice faltered slightly at the end.
“Could be,” Logan said, and for a moment, his tone shifted—deeper, more certain.
She hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she tried to put her feelings into words. “I miss it,” she admitted softly. “Miss you.”
There was a beat of silence, heavy but not uncomfortable. When Logan spoke again, his voice was quieter, rougher. “Same here.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly, glancing toward the doorway to make sure no one was listening. “How’s everything else? Are the guys at the site keeping you in line?”
Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “As much as they can. They’ve been askin’ about you, though. Wonderin’ when you’re comin’ back.”
“Tell them I’ll be back in a couple of days,” she teased, her smile widening.
“They’ll like that,” Logan said, a faint smirk in his tone.
The conversation drifted for a while—Logan asking about her parents, Evelyn filling him in on her mom’s slow recovery and the small, familiar chaos of being back home. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of her absence grew heavier.
“If it gets too much,” Logan said suddenly, his voice low and steady, “you call me. Don’t care what time it is.”
Her breath caught at the quiet conviction in his words. “Logan...”
“Just sayin’,” he added, his tone softening. “You don’t gotta do all this on your own.”
The lump in her throat grew tighter, but she swallowed it down, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”
“Don’t gotta thank me,” Logan replied. “Just come back when you’re ready.”
“I will,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I promise.”
“Good,” he said simply. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
“You too,” she whispered.
When the call ended, she stood there for a moment, the receiver still warm in her hand. Setting it down gently, she pressed her palm against her chest, trying to steady the ache blooming there.
Logan’s voice lingered in her mind long after the dial tone faded, his quiet reassurance wrapping around her like a blanket.
The morning was brisk, the kind of winter chill that clung to your skin and settled in your bones. Logan, Pete, and Rick were on the roof of Evelyn’s cottage, bundled in thick flannels and jackets. The sound of hammers and scraping metal filled the air as they worked in a steady rhythm, shingles and nails in hand.
Logan paused for a moment, scanning the roofline for any weak spots. His expression was focused, but there was a tension in his movements that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his coworkers.
“This place is coming together,” Pete said, wiping his brow and glancing at Logan. “She’s gonna love it when she gets back.”
Logan grunted in response, driving another nail into the shingle in front of him.
Rick climbed up the ladder, carrying another bundle of shingles. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Howlett. Something on your mind?”
“Nope,” Logan replied, though the sharpness in his tone suggested otherwise.
Pete smirked, leaning on his hammer. “Come on, man. We’ve known you long enough to know when something’s eating at you. Let me guess—it’s her.”
Logan shot him a look, but Pete just grinned. “Thought so,” he said. “What’s the problem? Trouble in paradise?”
“No,” Logan said sharply, then softened. “She’s just... not here. Staying with her parents for a while.”
Rick leaned against the truck, crossing his arms. “And you’re what? Pining?”
Pete laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Shut it,” Logan muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.
Rick raised an eyebrow, studying Logan for a moment before smirking. “You miss her.”
Logan didn’t respond, but the slight tension in his shoulders was answer enough.
Pete clapped him on the back. “So, go see her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Logan said, his voice low.
“Why not?” Rick asked, genuinely curious. “You’re over here fixing up her cottage like it’s your full-time job. Might as well check in on her while you’re at it.”
Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening. “She’s with her family. It’s not my place to just show up unannounced.”
Rick snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You’re the guy she calls when there’s a busted pipe or a leaky roof. If anyone’s got a place, it’s you.”
“Besides,” Pete added, grinning, “you’re not exactly the flowers-and-candy type. Showing up’s probably the most romantic thing you could do.”
Rick sat down on the edge of the roof, pulling off his gloves. “Seems to me like you’re overthinking it. If she’s been talking about you to her folks—and let’s be honest, she has—they’d probably be happy to meet you.”
Logan’s grip on the hammer tightened, but he kept working.
Pete chuckled, crossing his arms. “You don’t even know where she is, do you?”
Logan shot him a warning look, but Pete just laughed harder.
“All this time, you’re patching up her place, missing her like crazy, and you don’t even know how to find her.”.Pete said.
Logan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the roofline.
“Bet there’s something in the house with her parents’ address on it,” Rick said casually, glancing toward the open window below. “Mail, a note—anything.”
Logan finally set down his hammer, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re here to fix the roof, not go digging through her stuff.”
“Relax, no one’s saying snoop,” Pete said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if it were me, I’d want to know where to find her. Just in case.”
Logan exhaled sharply, standing and stretching his shoulders. “Roof’s almost done. Let’s finish it up.”
But as he climbed down the ladder to grab more supplies, his eyes drifted toward the kitchen window. The thought of finding her address lingered in his mind, a quiet pull he couldn’t quite shake.
The late morning sun cast long shadows across the cottage as Logan stepped inside for a moment to grab more supplies.He brushed his hands on his flannel, his boots clunking softly against the floor as he moved toward the kitchen.
The countertop was cluttered with the usual—mugs, an old notebook, a pair of gloves Evelyn had left behind. As Logan reached for the tool bucket by the sink, his eyes caught sight of an envelope tucked partially under the corner of a cookbook.
He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he pulled it free. The envelope had her family’s last name neatly written on it, along with an address.
He turned it over in his hands, his thumb brushing against the edge. His gaze lingered on the handwriting for a moment before he exhaled, setting it back down on the counter.
But something about it stuck with him.
“You find the shingles?” Pete called from outside, his voice muffled through the walls.
Logan grabbed the bucket and headed back out, the cold air hitting him like a wall.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, setting the tools down near the ladder.
Pete and Rick were leaning against the side of the truck, sharing a thermos of coffee. Pete raised an eyebrow when Logan approached. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Logan shot him a pointed look but didn’t respond.
Rick, ever the observer, glanced between them. “Let me guess. You found something?”
“No,” Logan said sharply, but Pete wasn’t buying it.
“What was it? A love letter?” Pete teased, smirking.
Logan’s jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath as he grabbed another bundle of shingles.
“Come on, man,” Pete said, chuckling. “If it’s something that’ll get you closer to her, maybe you oughta take the chance.”
Logan paused, one hand on the ladder. He didn’t look at either of them as he said, “It’s her parents’ address.”
Rick let out a low whistle. “Well, there’s your answer.”
Logan climbed back up to the roof without another word, his mind racing even as his hands worked mechanically. The idea of showing up unannounced wasn’t sitting right with him, but the thought of seeing her—making sure she was okay—was something he couldn’t shake.
The workday wrapped up with the sun dipping low, casting a golden glow over the yard. Logan stood by the truck, rolling up his sleeves as Pete and Rick packed up the last of the tools.
“So, you gonna do it?” Pete asked, leaning against the tailgate with a grin.
Logan glanced at him, his brow furrowed. “Do what?”
“Go see her,” Rick said, smirking.
Logan exhaled, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right, showing up unannounced.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “It’s Christmas, Howlett. If now’s not the time for grand gestures, when is?”
Rick nodded in agreement. “Worst-case scenario, her dad hates you. Best case? You get to spend a few days with the woman you’re crazy about.”
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You two don’t quit, do you?”
“Not when we’re right,” Pete said, grinning.
Logan climbed into the truck, his thoughts swirling as he started the engine. As the truck rumbled to life, Pete leaned in through the open window. “You’ll thank us later.”
Logan didn’t reply, but as he pulled out of the driveway, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. The idea of seeing her—of finally meeting her family—wasn’t as impossible as it had seemed just hours ago.
The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the bare trees, casting long shadows across the snow-covered lawn of her parents’ house. Evelyn had just finished stacking firewood along the side of the house when the low hum of a car engine broke the quiet. Wiping her hands on her coat, she turned to see a sleek, black sedan pulling into the driveway.
Her stomach dropped as the car door opened, and a figure she never thought she’d see again stepped out. William.
“Are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath, yanking off her gloves and storming toward him.
He flashed her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Evie.”
“Don’t call me that. What are you doing here?” she snapped, keeping her voice low but firm.
He held up his hands in mock surrender, his breath puffing in the cold air. “Heard your mom was under the weather. Thought I’d stop by and see how she’s doing.”
She glared at him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “You ‘heard’? From who?”
“It’s a small town,” he replied smoothly, leaning casually against his car. “People talk.”
“You have no right to be here,” she said, her voice sharper now. “My family doesn’t want to see you. I don’t want to see you.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his tone softening as he took a small step closer. “Because the last time I checked, we had years together, Evelyn. I know I messed up, but does that really mean you want to erase all of it?”
She flinched, his words landing like a slap. “You didn’t just mess up. You humiliated me in front of everyone I cared about, and then disappeared like a coward. There’s no fixing that.”
His expression wavered, and for a moment, she thought she saw something genuine in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. But then he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more calculated tone.
“I’ve been trying to move on,” he said quietly. “But every time I think I’m getting there, I think of you. I miss us, Evelyn.”
Her throat tightened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, to push him further away, but the words got stuck.
He took the hesitation as an opening, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I’m sorry for what I did. If I could take it back, I would.I’m here now.”
She shook her head, her voice trembling. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to forget everything you put me through. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, stepping even closer. “I’m asking for a second chance.”
Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them and leaned in. His lips brushed against hers softly, tentatively, and for a split second, she didn’t move.
Her mind raced, a chaotic storm of emotions swirling in her chest. The shock of the moment rooted her to the spot, but just as quickly as it started, she shoved him back, her voice trembling with anger.
The sound of footsteps crunching against the snow made her whirl around. Rounding the corner of the house, Logan came into view, his broad frame taut with tension as he took in the scene before him.
His gaze locked on hers for a brief moment before flicking to her ex-fiancé. His expression was unreadable—stone-faced, his jaw set tightly—but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made her stomach drop.
“Logan,” she breathed, panic surging through her chest.
Her ex-fiancé’s voice broke through the haze, dripping with false charm. “Well, well,” he said, his smirk cutting like a knife. “Is this the infamous boyfriend? Saw you at the fair. Figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”
“Logan,” Evelyn said softly, her voice shaking as she took a step toward him. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, torn between relief at his presence and terror at what he must think. “This isn’t—”
Logan’s gaze moved from her ex to her, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those eyes she had come to trust so deeply—were shadowed with something raw. Hurt. Disbelief.
“Don’t,” he said quietly, his voice calm but cold. He stayed where he was, his boots crunching on the snow-covered driveway. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yes, you should have,” she said, her voice rising, almost desperate. “Logan, this isn’t what it looks like. He just showed up, and—”
“Seems like bad timing,” her ex interrupted with a smirk, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. He glanced at Logan, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s a little funny. You showing up right now.”
“Shut up!” she snapped, spinning on him. “You’ve done enough damage.”
Logan didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but the way his jaw tightened was like a hammer to her chest. He was standing so still, so composed, but she could feel the weight of his silence.
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said finally, his voice so quiet it felt like a blade slicing through the cold. “I shouldn’t have come unannounced.”
“Logan, no,” she pleaded, stepping closer to him. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced herself to keep looking at him. “Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”
But Logan just shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Take care of yourself, Evelyn,” he said, turning back toward his truck.
“Logan!” she cried, reaching for him, her voice breaking. “Please, I—”
He didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. The door slammed shut behind him, and the truck roared to life. She stood frozen, helpless, as he drove off.
As the taillights disappeared down the road, the silence left behind was suffocating.
Her ex let out a low chuckle, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. “Well, that went about as expected. I guess he wasn’t—”
“Shut up!” she screamed, the words ripping from her throat as she turned on him. Her hands shoved him hard, her fury exploding like a dam breaking.
He stumbled back, his cocky smirk faltering for the first time. “Whoa, hey—”
“Get out!” she yelled, her voice raw and trembling. Tears streamed down her face as she shoved him again, harder this time. “Get out of here! You’ve ruined enough!”
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. But his eyes hardened as he straightened. “Jesus you’re overreacting.”
Her chest heaved as she glared at him, her voice shaking with fury. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to show up here and ruin my life again!”
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her with something akin to surprise. Then, without another word, he climbed into his car and drove off, the headlights casting long, mocking shadows across the driveway as he disappeared into the night.
And then it hit her. The weight of it all crashed down on her shoulders, and she collapsed to her knees in the snow, her sobs tearing through the stillness.
“Logan,” she whispered brokenly, the word slipping from her lips like a prayer. But the night swallowed her voice, leaving her alone in the icy darkness.
The sound of the front door opening was muffled by her cries, but the warmth of her father’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the moment.
“Sweetheart,” he said softly, kneeling beside her in the snow. His voice was steady, calm, but there was a deep concern in his tone that only a father could carry. “Come here.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her into a tight hug, his strong arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the world. The warmth of his embrace broke something loose inside her, and she clung to him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat.
“I ruined everything,” she choked out, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “He’s gone. He—he thinks I...” Her words dissolved into sobs, her body shaking in his hold.
Her father held her tighter, his hand smoothing over her hair in a soothing rhythm. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured firmly. “This isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.”
“But, Dad,” she cried, her voice breaking, “he saw... he saw that, and I—”
“Shh,” he interrupted gently, leaning back just enough to look her in the eyes. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “Listen to me, okay? Whatever happened, it’s not the end of the world. You care about him, right?”
She nodded, her breath hitching.
“Then you’ll fix this,” he said simply, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Logan’s a good man, from everything you’ve told us. He’s not going to walk away from you over a misunderstanding. You’ll explain it to him, and he’ll see what we see.”
Her lip quivered, fresh tears threatening to spill over. “What if it’s too late?”
“It’s not too late,” he said firmly, his grip on her steadying her as she wavered. “Sometimes things get messy, but if this man cares for you even half as much as you care for him, he’ll listen. He’ll come back. You just need to give it time.”
The certainty in his words was a balm to her frayed nerves, and though her heart still ached, she felt a small flicker of hope light up in the darkness.
Her father pulled her into another hug, his chin resting on top of her head. “You’re strong, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been through worse than this, and you’ve always come out the other side. This time won’t be any different.”
She clung to him, her tears beginning to slow as the weight of his words settled in her chest. His presence, solid and unwavering, reminded her that she wasn’t alone in this.
Finally, he pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Now, come inside,” he said gently. “You’re freezing, and I’m not about to let you catch your death out here.”
She managed a shaky nod, her legs unsteady as he helped her to her feet. Together, they walked back toward the house, her father keeping a steadying arm around her as they stepped into the warmth of home.
The pain was still there, raw and unyielding, but her father’s words gave her something to hold onto—a promise that things could, and would, get better.
As the door closed behind them, the warmth of the house wrapped around Evelyn, but it did little to soothe the icy ache in her chest. Her father guided her to the couch, his arm still firmly around her shoulders. She sank into the cushions, her head bowed, and fresh tears threatened to spill again.
Her dad watched her for a moment, his expression torn. Then, with a deep sigh, he patted her hand. “Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
Evelyn barely registered his words, her mind a storm of regret and panic. She buried her face in her hands, the memory of Logan’s face as he walked away replaying in her mind like a cruel loop.
In the kitchen, her father picked up the phone, his fingers pausing over the rotary dial before dialing a familiar number. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
“Hello?” Martha’s voice was bright, but it quickly shifted to concern when she heard who it was. “Mr. Bennette? Is everything okay?”
“Not exactly,” he admitted, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “It’s about Evelyn. She’s... she’s not doing too well.”
“What happened?” Martha’s voice was sharp now, all traces of levity gone.
Her father explained in brief, measured tones—how her ex-fiancé had shown up, how things had spiraled, and how Logan had seen what he wasn’t supposed to see.
“She’s a mess, Martha,” he said finally, his voice heavy with worry. “I don’t think she’s in any shape to sort this out on her own, and she’s worried about leaving her mom.”
There was a pause on the line before Martha spoke again, her voice resolute. “I’m coming over.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Mr. Bennette,” Martha interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You know as well as I do that she’s not going to fix this while she’s here, stewing in her guilt. I’ll come and look after Mrs. Bennette. You just make sure she goes after Logan.”
He let out a slow, relieved breath. “Thank you, Martha. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Well, she owes me big for this,” Martha said, her tone softening just a bit. “I’ll be there in a couple of days. Make sure she’s packed and ready by then.”
When her dad returned to the living room, Evelyn hadn’t moved, still curled into herself on the couch. He crouched down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.
“Martha’s coming,” he said gently.
Evelyn blinked at him, confusion flickering across her tear-streaked face. “Why? What for?”
“She’s going to help with your mom,” he explained, his voice steady but kind. “So you can go take care of something more important.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
“Logan,” he replied simply.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
“You need to go to him, sweetheart,” he continued. “He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging, thinking the worst. If what you told me about him is true, he’ll understand. But you’ve got to tell him the truth. In person.”
Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she shook her head. “What if it’s too late? What if... what if he doesn’t want to hear it?”
Her dad reached up, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But something tells me that man cares about you too much to walk away that easily. You just have to let him know you feel the same.”
The storm of emotions in her chest finally stilled as she stared at him. His words settled something deep within her, and after a moment, she nodded, determination flickering in her tear-filled eyes.
“I’ll go,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.
Her dad gave her a small, proud smile. “That’s my girl.”
The following morning, Evelyn sat at the foot of her mother’s bed, a tray of tea and toast balanced on her lap. Her mother’s cheeks had regained some color, but her sharp gaze hadn’t dulled despite the fever.
“You look tired,” her mom said softly, taking a sip of tea.
“I’m fine,” Evelyn replied, offering a small smile. “Just worried about you.”
Her mother set the cup down on the tray, studying her daughter intently. “That’s not all, is it?”
Evelyn hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “It’s nothing important.”
“It’s about him, isn’t it? Logan.”
The sound of his name sent a pang through her chest. She nodded slowly. “He... he saw something, something that wasn’t what it looked like. But he left before I could explain.”
Her mother reached out, her frail hand covering Evelyn’s. “Men like that don’t come around often. Don’t let fear stop you from making things right.”
Tears blurred Evelyn’s vision. “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”
Her mother squeezed her hand gently. “Then you hold your head high and know you did your best. But from the way you’ve spoken about him, I don’t think he’ll turn his back on you so easily.”
Two days later, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway stirred Evelyn from her restless thoughts. She peeked out the window, her breath fogging up the glass as she spotted Martha stepping out of her car, bundled in a thick coat and balancing a casserole dish in her gloved hands.
“Hope you’re ready for reinforcements!” Martha called out, her voice bright despite the chill in the air.
Evelyn opened the door, the cold wind brushing past her as she stepped outside. “Thanks for coming,” she said, managing a faint smile as she stepped aside to let Martha in.
Martha kicked off her boots and set the casserole dish on the kitchen counter, pulling off her gloves with an exaggerated flourish. “First order of business,” she announced, “this is my famous ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ casserole. Guaranteed to keep everyone alive while you’re gone.”
Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh softly, though the sound was tinged with exhaustion. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
Martha waved her off. “Please, your parents love me. I’ll have your mom eating out of my hand by tomorrow morning.” Her expression softened as she turned to face Evelyn. “Your dad filled me in. You okay?”
“I don’t know,” Evelyn admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well,” Martha said firmly, stepping closer and placing her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders, “first things first: you’re going to go find Logan. And while you do that, I’ll take care of everything here. Your mom, your dad, the casserole consumption. Deal?”
Evelyn hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the living room where her father was stoking the fire. “It feels selfish, leaving like this.”
“It’s not selfish,” Martha said, her voice resolute. “You’ve been here, taking care of everything and everyone. Now it’s time to take care of yourself.”
As if on cue, her father entered the kitchen, dusting his hands off as he closed the fireplace screen. His expression was warm, a quiet pride shining in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. “She’s right, sweetheart. We’ve got everything handled here. You’ve done more than enough.”
Evelyn felt her chest tighten, the weight of her guilt and hesitation threatening to crush her. But as she looked between her father and Martha—two of the people who knew her best—she felt a flicker of determination spark within her.
“Okay,” she said softly, nodding as the resolve began to take hold. “I’ll go.”
Her father smiled, pulling her into a tight hug. “That’s my girl.”
Martha clapped her hands together, her grin returning. “Alright! Let’s get you packed. No time to waste.”
As Evelyn headed toward her room to grab her things, her heart still felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty. But for the first time in days, she also felt a glimmer of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, she could make things right.
Chapter 7
______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):
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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.
no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail digging, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.
Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past
Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: Mentions of past trauma (mild), masturbation (male) and I think that's all. A/N: So, I know the slow burn has been crawling, so this time I decided to pour some gasoline on it. This chapter touches on Evelyn’s past— let’s just say a ghost makes a timely return to stir things up. Chapter 8 …well, you might hate me (but I hope not too much). Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me—it means more than I can say. Now, go enjoy this one, and let me know what you think!
Word count: 6.5k
© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.
The town fair was alive with the hum of cheerful voices, the scent of funnel cakes and roasted chestnuts wafting through the cool evening air. Strings of colorful lights crisscrossed the fairgrounds, casting a warm glow over the gathering crowd. Evelyn tightened her grip on Logan’s hand as they weaved through the throng, the comfortable weight of his presence grounding her in the lively chaos.
“Didn’t peg you as a fair kind of guy,” she teased, glancing up at him with a small smile.
Logan smirked, his free hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket. “The guys at work were all bringing their ladies. Figured I’d better not show up empty-handed.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so I’m just here to save your reputation?”
“Yes,” he replied dryly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement.
She gave his hand a playful squeeze. “Well, I’m honored to uphold your rugged logger image.”
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as they strolled past a booth selling handmade crafts. The fair was in full swing, the sounds of laughter and the occasional burst of music filling the crisp night air.
“Think you’ll get called out for bringing a city girl?” she asked, nudging him gently.
“Nah,” Logan said, glancing at her. “They’ve been waiting to see who’d put up with me.”
Evelyn laughed, the sound light and easy. “Good thing I don’t scare off that easily.”
The banter between them carried on as they explored the fair, stopping occasionally to admire the wares at different stalls or grab a bite to eat. Logan’s presence was steady and comforting, his rare smiles making the night feel even warmer despite the cool breeze.
They passed a booth with a ring toss game, the prizes ranging from stuffed animals to small trinkets. Evelyn stopped, eyeing a plush fox hanging in the corner.
“You eyeing that fox?” Logan asked, his tone light.
She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I mean, it’s cute, but those games are rigged.”
Logan tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Rigged, huh?”
Before she could protest, he handed over a few bills to the vendor and picked up the rings. His first toss missed, but the next two landed squarely on the poles, the clang of success drawing a grin from the vendor.
“Nice work,” the vendor said, handing Logan the plush fox.
Logan turned to Evelyn, holding it out. “For you.”
She laughed, taking the toy and hugging it to her chest. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”
“Don’t spread it around,” he said, his tone dry but his expression warm.
As they wandered back into the heart of the fair, the hum of activity enveloped them once more. The scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet cotton candy mingled in the air, and Evelyn found herself easing into the moment again, Logan’s steady presence beside her grounding her in ways she hadn’t fully realized until now.
They paused by a booth selling cider, Logan handing her a warm cup before taking one for himself. “Good?” he asked, his voice low but warm.
She took a sip, the spicy sweetness filling her senses, and nodded with a small smile. “Very.”
They strolled on, stopping occasionally to admire the performers scattered throughout the fair—a fire-breather here, a fiddler playing lively tunes there. Logan’s quiet amusement at her fascination with it all made her smile.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, bumping his arm lightly.
“Not bad,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Seeing you enjoy it makes it better.”
Before she could respond, a loud voice called out from nearby.
“Howlett!”
They both turned to see a group of men gathered near a ring-toss game, several of whom Evelyn recognized from the logging site. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard—was waving them over.
“Caught you at the fair, huh?” the man said with a grin as they approached. “Thought you’d be too busy chopping trees or scowling at the world.”
“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think, Pete,” Logan replied, his tone dry but not unfriendly.
The others chuckled, their gazes shifting to Evelyn.
“And this must be the reason he’s been less grumpy lately,” another one said, winking at her. “Nice to finally meet you. Name’s Rick.”
Evelyn smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Don’t mind these idiots,” Logan muttered, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.
“You’re just mad we’re right,” Rick quipped, elbowing Pete. “Good to see you happy, Howlett. It suits you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, his hand resting lightly on the small of Evelyn’s back.
Rick smirked, his tone sly. “So, when’s the wedding, huh? You gonna invite us, or are you keeping it small?”
Evelyn laughed, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Logan. “We’ll let you know if he ever asks.”
Rick let out a booming laugh, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “She’s got you pegged, Howlett. Better not let this one get away.”
Logan shook his head, but the warmth in his expression didn’t go unnoticed. “You done yet?”
“Not even close,” Rick said, grinning. “We just want to make sure she knows what she’s signed up for.”
Evelyn tilted her head, her gaze playful. “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
Rick laughed again, his hand resting briefly on Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re a good sport. Good luck with him.”
After a few more minutes of lighthearted ribbing, the group let them go with a chorus of good-natured farewells. As they walked away, Evelyn glanced up at Logan, her smile softening.
“They seem nice,” she said.
“They mean well,” he replied, his hand slipping back into hers.
“They’re happy for you,” she pointed out, squeezing his hand lightly.
Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess they are.”
They continued their stroll, pausing near the carousel where the cheerful sound of calliope music drifted through the air. The strings of lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the quiet corner. Logan stopped, his gaze shifting to her.
“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.
Evelyn nodded, her fingers brushing against his. “I am. Thanks to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Logan said simply, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Just glad I could help.”
She stepped closer, her voice softer now. “You’re more than ‘help,’ Logan. You don’t have to say it, but I know what you mean to me.”
The warmth in his gaze made her chest tighten, and she leaned into him slightly, letting the quiet strength of his presence wrap around her. In that moment, the chaos of the fair seemed a world away, leaving just the two of them standing together beneath the strings of lights.
As they rounded a corner near the Ferris wheel, Evelyn suddenly froze mid-step, her laughter dying in her throat. Across the fairgrounds, standing near a booth selling caramel apples, was a face she hadn’t seen in over a year but would recognize anywhere.
Her ex-fiancé, William.
He looked almost the same as he had the day he left—clean-cut, polished, and standing with the same air of casual confidence that once made her feel safe. But now, he was leaning close to another woman, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. The sight sent a cold wave crashing over her, the noise of the fair fading into a dull hum in the background.
Logan’s voice broke through the fog. “You alright?”
She turned toward him, startled, her heart pounding. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flicking toward the direction she’d been staring. He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened around hers, his presence steady and unyielding.
And then, as if drawn by some unseen thread, her ex-fiancé turned. Their eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, Evelyn couldn’t breathe. For a moment, there was no recognition. And then, his expression shifted—first surprise, then something that looked almost like discomfort.
“Evelyn,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for her to hear over the noise of the fair.
She froze, the sound of her name on his lips sending a shiver down her spine. Logan stopped with her, his posture subtly shifting as he positioned himself closer to her side.
“Hey,” her ex said, taking a step forward. The woman beside him glanced between them, her smile faltering as she seemed to sense the tension. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has,” Evelyn replied, her tone carefully neutral.
The man hesitated, his gaze flicking to Logan before returning to her. “You look good,” he said awkwardly, as though unsure of what else to say.
Evelyn straightened slightly, her fingers tightening around Logan’s. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Logan didn’t speak, but his quiet presence beside her felt like a shield, solid and unyielding.
“Well,” her ex said after a moment, glancing back at the woman he was with. “It was good seeing you. Take care, Evelyn.”
“You too,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning in her chest.
As he walked away, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to rest lightly against her back, grounding her.
“Let’s keep moving,” she said quickly.
They walked in silence for a while, the lightness of their earlier banter replaced by a heavy tension that clung to Evelyn like a second skin. She tried to focus on the fair—the laughter of children, the cheerful music drifting from the carousel—but the image of her ex lingered, stirring a whirlwind of emotions she thought she’d buried.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I need some air,” she murmured, stepping toward the edge of the fairgrounds where the crowd thinned.
Logan followed without hesitation, his hand slipping from hers but his presence close behind. They stopped near a bench beneath a string of lights, the soft glow illuminating the lines of concern etched into his face.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but steady.
She hesitated, her arms wrapping around herself as she stared at the ground. “That was my ex,”she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
The words hung in the air between them, carrying the weight of a history Logan didn’t yet know. His gaze remained steady, his hands flexing slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her.
“The one who...?” he began, his voice trailing off, leaving the rest of the question unspoken.
She nodded, her throat tightening. “Yeah.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something sharp crossing his expression—anger, maybe, or something close to it. But he didn’t say anything, letting her set the pace of the conversation.
“I wasn’t expecting to see him,” she continued, her voice wavering. “And with someone else...” Her words faltered, and she shook her head as if to clear it. “Not that it matters. It doesn’t.It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Logan’s tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a quiet insistence that told her he wasn’t buying her dismissal.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned toward him, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s complicated, Logan. Seeing him again—it brought back... the hurt, the humiliation.”
Logan stepped closer, his hand brushing against her arm before settling there lightly. “You don’t have to explain it all to me,” he said, his voice softer now.
She closed her eyes for a moment, the tension in her chest loosening just slightly at his words. “I thought I’d moved past it,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But seeing him... I don’t know. It made me feel like I’m right back at the church.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting into something that wasn’t pity but understanding—a quiet strength that steadied her as her words faltered.
“You’re not there,” he said firmly, his voice low and grounding. “You’re here. And you’re stronger than the person he walked away from.”
Her throat tightened, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered. “It feels like he took something from me that I can’t get back.”
Logan’s hand moved to cup her cheek, his rough palm warm against her skin. The gesture made her chest ache, not from pain but from the tenderness in it.
“He didn’t take anything that matters,” Logan said, his tone steady. “Not the part of you that kept going. That rebuilt herself when he wasn’t there to help.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she let out a shaky breath. “Logan...”
His thumb brushed the tear away, his gaze never wavering. “You’re allowed to feel this,” he murmured. “But don’t let it make you forget how far you’ve come. And don’t let it make you forget who you are now.”
His words settled over her, soothing the raw edges of her hurt. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she leaned slightly into his touch.
“You always know what to say,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint, tentative smile.
Logan let out a soft huff, his thumb pausing against her cheek. “Just trying to keep up with you.”
That earned a quiet laugh, the sound breaking through the tension and lightening the air between them. She reached up, covering his hand with hers, her fingers curling around his.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice rough but warm. “Just... let me be here for you.”
The sincerity in his words made her heart ache in the best way.
She took a deep breath, stepping back slightly but keeping her hand in his. “Let’s go back,” she said, her voice quiet but determined.
Logan nodded, his fingers tightening briefly around hers. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.”
Logan’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, and without another word, he guided her back toward the fair. His hand stayed firmly in hers, his presence a steadying anchor as the lively sounds of the fair enveloped them once more.
Though her mind still lingered on the encounter, the warmth of Logan’s touch and the weight of his words grounded her, reminding her of the life she was building—one that her past couldn’t take from her.
Logan pulled the truck to a gentle stop in front of the cottage, the warm glow of the porch light spilling into the darkened yard. The drive back from the fair had been quiet, but not uncomfortable—filled with the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding rather than awkwardness.
Logan turned to her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, his expression steady but laced with something unspoken. “You alright?”
Evelyn nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. I think so. Thanks for tonight. For... everything.”
His lips quirked into the faintest smile, his hand resting on the gear shift. “Always.”
As she reached for the door handle, his voice stopped her. “Hey.”
She turned back to him, her brows lifting slightly.
“I was thinking,” he began, his tone casual but carrying an edge of hesitation, “maybe next time, we do something a little quieter. Dinner. At my place.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your place?”
Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking briefly toward the steering wheel before meeting hers again. “Figured it’s only fair. We’re always here at yours.”
A warm, unexpected flutter spread through her chest at the suggestion. “I’d like that,” she said softly, her smile widening.
“Friday work for you?”
She nodded, stepping out of the truck but pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll bring dessert,” she teased, her tone light.
Logan smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Deal.”
On Friday evening, the crisp autumn air was tinged with the scent of pine as Evelyn turned her car onto the gravel road leading to Logan’s cabin. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the driveway, the forest surrounding his property alive with the soft rustle of leaves.
Her nerves hummed lightly as she parked next to his truck, clutching the box of homemade cookies she’d promised to bring for dessert. It wasn’t their first evening together, but this felt different—more deliberate, like a step forward in their unspoken rhythm.
Before she could knock, the door opened, revealing Logan in his usual flannel and jeans, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled. There was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put her at ease.
“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let her in.
“Hey,” she replied, offering him a smile as she crossed the threshold. The cabin was cozy, smaller than her cottage but just as inviting, with its rough-hewn wooden beams and the faint crackle of a fire in the stone hearth.
Logan took the box of cookies from her hands, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “Smells good,” he said, glancing down at the neatly tied package.
“Don’t let that fool you,” she teased, slipping off her coat. “They might taste terrible.”
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Doubt that.”
The cabin felt distinctly like him—simple and sturdy, with a sense of quiet warmth beneath the surface. A small bookshelf sat by the fireplace, filled with well-worn paperbacks and a few framed photos. The table in the corner was set with two mismatched plates and a candle flickering gently in the center.
“You really went all out,” she said, her voice carrying a note of playful surprise as she took it all in.
Logan shrugged, setting the cookies on the counter. “Figured it was time for a change. We’re always at your place.”
Her smile softened at his effort, and she stepped closer, brushing a hand lightly against his arm. “It’s nice. Thank you.”
Dinner was simple but perfect—a roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables that Logan had clearly put care into preparing. They fell into easy conversation as they ate, the intimacy of the space wrapping around them like a blanket.
Halfway through the meal, Evelyn glanced at the photo frame on the bookshelf. It showed a much younger Logan in a military uniform, standing next to a group of men who were all grinning despite the dust and grime on their faces.
“Is that you?” she asked, nodding toward the picture.
Logan’s gaze followed hers, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. A long time ago.”
“You look so serious,” she teased gently, though there was no mockery in her tone.
“Wasn’t much to laugh about back then,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.
A beat of silence passed, the weight of his words settling between them. Then Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on hers. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice almost casual, though his tone carried an underlying weight.
Evelyn tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”
He stood and crossed the room to the bookshelf, reaching for something she hadn’t noticed before. When he returned, he held out a pair of dog tags strung on a simple chain.
The metal glinted faintly in the candlelight as he placed them in her hands. “These are mine,” he said, his voice rougher now. “From when I served.”
She stared down at the tags, her fingers brushing over the etched letters. “Logan...”
“You don’t have to wear them or anything,” he said quickly, almost as if he were worried she might refuse. “Just... I wanted you to have something. Something that mattered to me.”
Her throat tightened, and she looked up at him, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”
After the meal, they worked together on the dishes, their movements synchronized in a quiet rhythm. The soft clink of plates and the gentle hum of conversation filled the small kitchen, adding to the warmth of the evening. When they were done, Logan grabbed a towel, wiping his hands as Evelyn wandered into the living room.
Her gaze landed on a Polaroid camera sitting on the side table. “Oh my God, you have one of these?” she exclaimed, picking it up with an almost childlike delight.
Logan smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s old.”
She laughed, opening the back to check for film. “Still works, though.” Finding a few shots left, she climbed onto the couch, motioning him over. “Come here.”
Logan rolled his eyes but complied, sitting stiffly beside her. She tilted the camera, angling it just right, then leaned into him with a grin.
The camera whirred and clicked, spitting out the photo. She waved it in the air, laughing at Logan’s slightly awkward expression in the developing image. “Perfect,” she declared.
She adjusted the camera and pointed it at him. “One more—for me.”
Logan raised a brow but didn’t protest, sitting still as she snapped the shot.
Satisfied, she turned the lens on herself, angling it for a final picture. With a playful flourish, she kissed the developing photo before handing it to him. “And one for you.”
Logan stared at the picture, her bright smile frozen in time. His fingers brushed the edge of the Polaroid as a soft, almost reverent expression crossed his face. Without a word, he leaned forward, pulling her into a kiss.
It started slow, but the spark between them flared quickly. Her hands slid up his chest, tugging him closer as his grip tightened around her waist. They sank into the couch, the tension mounting as their bodies pressed together. Logan’s lips left hers to trail along her neck, his breathing heavy, and a low growl rumbled from his chest as she shifted against him.
Her hands slid into his hair, tugging gently, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin just below her ear. The moment was electric, both of them caught in a current too strong to resist.
Logan broke the kiss suddenly, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her. She was flushed, her lips red and parted, her hair clinging to her damp forehead. The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet full of desire, sent a wave of heat surging through him, and he felt his body respond instinctively.
“Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice thick with need and restraint. His hands tightened on her waist, almost as if grounding himself. “I think we should stop.”
Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face as she continued to move against him, her body seeking his. “Why?” she asked softly, her voice laced with longing.
Logan closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he fought to keep control. “Because if we don’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”
She stopped her movements, her hands sliding from his shoulders to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, steady, and her gaze searched his, her own chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. “Logan,” she began, her tone softer now. “I trust you.”
His eyes opened, and the storm within them met her unwavering calm. “It’s not about trust,” he said, his voice rough. “You told me to take it slow, and I don’t want to be the reason you change that.”
Her heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice, the way he was holding back, not for himself but for her. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “I know what I want,” she whispered, her words warm against his skin. “And right now, I just want to be close to you. I’m not asking for more.”
Logan groaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut as he rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t—I can’t control myself when it comes to you,”he muttered, his voice low and full of longing.
Her cheeks burned, and she quickly pulled back, her hands flying to cover her face. “Oh my God,” she mumbled into her palms, embarrassed by the intensity of the moment.
Logan huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he stood. “It’s not you, bub. It’s me.” His voice was gentler now, though his movements were still stiff with restraint. “I just… I need a minute.”
Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the door clicking shut breaking the charged silence.
Left alone, Evelyn sat frozen for a moment before peeking out from behind her hands, her cheeks still burning. The weight of the moment lingered in the room, but so did something else—a sense of care, of respect, and a deep connection that neither of them could deny.
She exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “What are you doing to me, Logan?” she whispered to herself, the heat in her chest refusing to subside.
Inside the bathroom, Logan braced himself on the sink, his broad shoulders hunched as if the weight of his self-control was a physical burden. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the porcelain, and his reflection in the mirror stared back at him—a mess of frustration, longing, and restraint.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “Come on, Howlett. You’re acting like a damn teenager.”
The words felt hollow as they left his lips. She made him feel like a man stripped down to his most basic instincts, raw and exposed in ways that unsettled him.
He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water rush over his hands before splashing some on his face. The icy shock was a welcome reprieve from the fire that had ignited under his skin. Droplets clung to his hair and dripped onto the sink as he stared into the mirror again.
Her face flashed in his mind—flushed and glowing, her lips swollen from their kisses, her voice trembling with trust and desire as she whispered his name. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he gripped the edge of the sink tighter, his claws threatening to unsheathe.
“Pull it together,” he hissed to himself, his voice low and sharp.
But God, she made it so damn hard. Every touch, every look, every soft sigh drove him closer to a line he didn’t trust himself to cross. He’d never wanted anything—or anyone—this much before.
He shut his eyes tightly, taking in a deep, steadying breath.
His breathing quickened, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. “Damn it,” he growled. But the ache wouldn’t relent, the tension building like a storm that wouldn’t break.
Logan tried to push it down, to shake it off, but her voice echoed in his mind: I trust you. That trust, that closeness—they meant everything to him. But his body wasn’t listening. He was only human, and the fire she’d lit inside him wasn’t going out on its own.
His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against the cool glass of the mirror. He cursed softly, his hand drifting lower to his belt, undoing it at an embarrassing speed. His breath hitched as his hand wrapped itself around his painfully hard member, his free hand bracing him against the sink.
He beggan stroking himself fast, almost desperate, and he bit back a low groan as he finally let the tension snap. For a moment, the release brought relief, his body calming as he exhaled shakily. But the satisfaction was fleeting, the guilt settling in almost immediately after.
He straightened, his chest still heaving as he stared at himself in the mirror, disgust flickering in his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered, his voice harsh.
Logan turned off the faucet and took a moment to compose himself, his hands gripping the counter until the trembling stopped. He didn’t deserve her, not like this—not when he couldn’t even keep himself in check. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself, trying to scrub away the evidence of his weakness.
Finally, he stood tall, steeling himself as he reached for the doorknob. His expression was guarded, his jaw set as he opened the door and stepped back into the room.
Logan stepped out of the bathroom, his face composed, though a faint shadow of guilt lingered in his eyes. He found her curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap, flipping idly through channels on the old TV.
She glanced up as he entered, offering him a small, tentative smile. “Everything okay?” she asked softly.
He nodded, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “Yeah. Just needed a minute,” he said, his voice calmer now, though the weight of his earlier emotions still clung to him.
She shifted to make room for him on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “Come sit.”
Logan hesitated for a moment before sitting down, the cushion dipping under his weight. She pulled the blanket over both of them, her warmth immediately grounding him.
They settled into a comfortable silence, the soft flicker of the TV casting a warm glow across the room. Some old sitcom was playing, the canned laughter filling the quiet space between them.
As the tension from earlier began to fade, Logan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was focused on the screen, her face relaxed, though her hand rested lightly against his arm—a small, reassuring gesture that made his chest ache.
“Sorry if I…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “ made things weird.”
She turned to him, her expression gentle. “You didn’t,” she said simply.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, genuine smile, and for the first time that evening, he felt himself relax. The pull between them was still there, simmering under the surface, but for now, this—just being close to her—was enough.
As the credits rolled on the TV, she yawned softly, her head tilting to rest against his shoulder. Logan froze for a moment, then eased into the touch, his arm slipping around her shoulders.
“You tired?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
She nodded against him, her eyes fluttering shut. “A little.”
“Get some rest,” he murmured, his hand lightly brushing against her arm.
They stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for the low hum of the TV and the crackle of the fire. Logan glanced down at her, her breathing evening out as she drifted off against him.
For all his inner turmoil, this moment—her trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms—felt like something he didn’t deserve. But he’d hold onto it, for as long as she let him.
The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long golden shadows across the room. Evelyn stirred, slowly becoming aware of the warmth pressed against her back and the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest. For a moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of it—the solidness of him, the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to his skin.
But then, the events of the night before came rushing back: the heated kisses, the way his hands had gripped her hips like she was the only thing grounding him. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of their closeness, the quiet intensity that had left her breathless.
She carefully shifted out of his embrace, the creak of the couch making her wince. As she stood, she noticed the Polaroid on the floor, its corner peeking out from beneath the edge of the coffee table. Bending to pick it up, she stared at her own image for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
Her gaze flicked to Logan, still asleep, his features soft and unguarded in the morning light. Setting the photo back on the table, she found a scrap of paper and pen nearby and scribbled a quick note:
Thank you for last night—for everything. You have no idea how much it means to me. See you soon.
She folded the note and placed it beside the Polaroid before grabbing her jacket and slipping out the door, the cool morning air brushing against her flushed cheeks.
Back at her cottage, the stillness felt louder than usual, filling the small space as Evelyn poured herself a cup of tea. The events of the night before replayed in her mind, the intensity of their kisses, the feel of Logan’s hands on her waist, and the quiet way he’d held her as she drifted off.
She sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window, before finally reaching for the phone. Her fingers hovered over the rotary dial for a moment before she took a steadying breath and began to turn the numbers. The line clicked faintly before it started to ring.
Martha picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of curiosity. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pioneer woman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Good morning to you too, Martha.”, let out a soft laugh, sinking onto the couch. “Sorry, I’ve been... busy.”
“Oh, I know exactly who’s been keeping you busy,” Martha replied, her voice laced with amusement.
Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she searched for the right words. “We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”
“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Because I need details, woman.”
“Not like that,” Evelyn said quickly, her face flushing. “But we kissed. A lot. And it felt... it felt like everything else just disappeared. Like the only thing that mattered was him.”
There was a long, dramatic pause on Martha’s end before she said, “Oh, honey. You’re in deep.”
Evelyn let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. “It’s terrifying, Martha. I haven’t felt like this in so long. And the last time I did—”
“—it didn’t end well,” Martha finished gently. “I know. But this isn’t that. You said it yourself—Logan’s different. He’s not some flaky guy with cold feet.”
Evelyn hesitated, her grip on the phone cord tightening. “You’re right, he’s not. But seeing William at the fair the other night—I wasn’t ready for that.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Wait. What? You saw him? What happened?”
“He was just... there,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I spotted him with some woman, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. And then he walked up and said hello like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t—” Her words caught in her throat, and she took a steadying breath. “Like he hadn’t left me standing there on my wedding day.”
“God,” Martha breathed, her voice brimming with sympathy and anger. “What an absolute jerk. What did you do? Did you tell him to shove off?”
Evelyn let out a hollow laugh. “I wish. I just... froze. I could barely get a word out. But Logan could tell something was off, but he didn’t press. ”
“That man,” Martha said, her voice practically glowing with approval. “He’s a saint. Or maybe a knight in flannel armor. Either way, he sounds like the real deal.”
“He is,” Evelyn admitted quietly, a warmth spreading through her chest. “But seeing William brought everything back. The humiliation, the hurt, the fear that I’ll never be good enough for someone to stick around.”
“Alright, stop right there,” Martha interrupted, her voice firm. “First of all, you are more than enough. Don’t let some spineless coward make you question that. Second, Logan isn’t your ex. He’s proven that over and over again. The way you talk about him—how he looks after you, how he’s there for you—it’s night and day compared to William.”
Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding even though Martha couldn’t see her. “It’s just hard sometimes, you know? Trusting myself to not mess it all up again.”
“It’s hard because you care,” Martha said gently. “And that’s a good thing. It means this matters to you. But you’re not doing this alone anymore. Logan’s in this with you. Let him be.”
There was a long pause, and Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord. “There’s... something else,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh,” Martha said, her tone immediately shifting to playful curiosity. “What is it?”
“We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”
“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Did you...?”
“No, no,” Evelyn interrupted quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper even though she was alone. “But it got... close,really close.”
Martha let out a low whistle. “Look at you. So, what happened?”
“We were just talking, and then one thing led to another,” Evelyn said, her voice faltering slightly. “It was—God, Martha, it was amazing. But then I panicked and pulled back.”
“Did he freak out?”
“No,” Evelyn said softly. “He didn’t push, didn’t make me feel bad. He just held me. I don’t know. It felt different. Like he actually cares.”
Martha let out a dreamy sigh. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good one, babe. I mean, if a man can handle that without making it weird, he’s a keeper.”
Evelyn smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him, Martha. And that scares the living hell out of me.”
Martha’s voice softened. “It’s okay to be scared. But from everything you’ve told me, Logan’s not going anywhere. He’s patient, he listens, and he clearly cares about you. You just have to let yourself believe you deserve it.”
“I’m trying,” Evelyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And you will,” Martha replied firmly. “You’ve come so far already. Just... don’t overthink it. Let yourself enjoy what you have with him.”
Evelyn nodded, even though Martha couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Martha.”
“Anytime,” Martha said cheerfully. “Now, when do I get to meet this Logan? Because I need to make sure he’s good enough for my best girl.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Evelyn said, laughing lightly. “But I’ll keep you posted.”
“You better,” Martha replied. “And hey—if he cooks, don’t let him go. A man who can handle a stove and look good doing it? That’s a keeper.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, the tension in her chest loosening further. “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”
“Good,” Martha said, her grin evident even through the phone. “And call me soon. I want all the updates.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Evelyn promised, hanging up the phone and leaning back on her couch.
The weight of the conversation lingered, but it felt lighter now, less like a burden and more like something she could carry.
Chapter 6
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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.
Chapter 6: Pieces falling into place
Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: None. A/N: So this is sorta of a filler chapter, just laying the ground and taking a look at Evelyn and Logan's growing relationship, enjoy the fluff while it lasts cause the in the next chapters there will be a turn. Also, sorry for the delay, I haven't felt very inspired lately because of the response to the last couple of chapters, but don't worry, I'm here to stay, and so is this fic, enjoy!
Word count: 5.7k
© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.
The crisp air of the morning had given way to a chilly but clear evening, the kind that made the warmth of the cottage feel even more comforting. Evelyn stood by the window, gazing out at the faint glow of the setting sun as her thoughts lingered on the past few weeks. Logan had been a steady presence, easing his way into her life in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Their relationship—if she could call it that—was unspoken, undefined, yet it had become an anchor in the stillness of her days.
When Logan arrived that evening, she greeted him with a quiet smile, their easy familiarity setting the tone for the night. After dinner, they found themselves working together on the small, creaky cabinet she’d salvaged from the corner of the cottage. It wasn’t much, but there was a strange satisfaction in repairing it—a metaphor, perhaps, for the pieces of her life she was trying to put back together.
“Hand me the screwdriver,” Logan said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.
Evelyn passed it to him, watching as he tightened the hinge with practiced precision.
“You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know,” Logan said, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “Could’ve just tossed this thing.”
She shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I like the idea of giving it a second chance.”
Logan’s gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Fair enough.”
The evening drifted on, the two of them moving from task to task with an ease that felt natural, almost domestic. Later, as they settled at the kitchen table, the remains of their meal still scattered between them, the mood shifted. The soft crackle of the fire in the next room filled the space, blending with the distant howl of the wind outside.
Evelyn traced the rim of her mug with her finger, her thoughts swirling as she glanced up at Logan. His steady presence had a way of grounding her, making her feel safe enough to confront the things she usually kept buried.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she began, her voice softer than usual.
Logan straightened slightly, his full attention falling on her. “I’m listening.”
Her fingers tightened around the mug as she searched for the right words. “Before I came here, I was... engaged. We were together for eight years. I thought we had everything figured out. But then, on the morning of our wedding, he left. A letter was all I got.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, his hand curling against the table. But he didn’t interrupt, his silence urging her to continue.
“I felt like my whole world shattered in that moment,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Not just because of the humiliation, but because I didn’t see it coming. I trusted him. I built my life around him. And in one morning, it all fell apart.”
The weight of her confession hung in the air, but Logan didn’t look away. His steady gaze made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected.
“That’s why you left?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. “I couldn’t stay. Everywhere I went, there were reminders of him, of what I thought I’d had. Coming here was the only way I could breathe again.”
Logan leaned back slightly, his expression softening. “You rebuilt yourself. Took your life back. That takes strength.”
“Sometimes I don’t feel strong,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it feels like I’m still running, like I’ll never stop looking over my shoulder.”
“You don’t have to run anymore,” he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet conviction. “Not here. Not with me.”
The certainty in his words struck something deep within her, a mixture of relief and fear that made her chest tighten. “What if I mess this up?” she asked, her voice breaking. “What if I’m not enough?”
Logan’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to cover hers. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Evelyn. I’m here because I want to be. Not because I expect anything from you.”
Her lips curved into a small, tentative smile, her fingers relaxing beneath his. “I don’t know if I’m ready for something serious,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to push you away, either. I don’t want to push us away.”
Logan’s grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, his voice low but steady. “We’ll take it slow. Just us figuring it out.”
She nodded, her chest feeling lighter. “Thank you. For being patient with me.”
“You’re worth the wait,” he said, his voice resolute.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth spreading through the room as Evelyn and Logan sat in the stillness of the evening. The weight of her confession lingered in the air, settling into the cracks of the cottage like something fragile yet unyielding.
Logan hadn’t let go of her hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns against her knuckles. It was a small gesture, but it grounded her, pulling her back from the jagged edges of her memories.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. “For listening. For... not trying to fix it.”
His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Sometimes listening’s the only thing that matters.”
She studied him for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “What about you? You don’t talk about your past much.”
Logan’s gaze flicked to the fire, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a long moment, she thought he might brush off the question, deflect with one of his usual dry remarks. But then he exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping as though he were letting go of something unseen.
“It’s not easy to talk about,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “There’s parts of it I’d rather forget.”
She stayed quiet, sensing the weight of what he was about to share.
“I was in the military,” he began, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “A long time ago. Seen things most people wouldn’t believe, done things I’m not proud of.” He paused, his fingers curling against the edge of the table. “The war... it changes you. Strips you down to the bare bones of who you are. And sometimes, when it’s over, you don’t even recognize what’s left.”
Evelyn felt her chest tighten, her heart aching for the man sitting across from her. She could see the lines of pain etched into his face, the weight of memories that clung to him like shadows.
“I’ve lost people,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Friends. Brothers-in-arms. Some of them because of choices I made.” His jaw tightened again, the flicker of guilt crossing his features like a ghost. “You tell yourself you did the best you could. That it wasn’t your fault. But deep down, you always wonder if you could’ve done more.”
Her hand moved instinctively, covering his. “Logan,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “You can’t carry that alone. No one can.”
He met her gaze, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them, filled with a rawness that made her chest ache. “It’s not about carrying it,” he said quietly. “It’s about living with it. And not letting it destroy the good things you still have left.”
Her breath hitched, the quiet strength in his words cutting through the haze of her own fears.
“That’s why I don’t let people in,” he admitted after a moment, his voice rough but steady. “Because when you care about someone... when you let them close... you’re opening the door to losing them. And I’ve lost enough.”
The confession hung in the air, heavy and unflinching. Evelyn didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the pain he’d just laid bare. But she didn’t need to. She reached across the table, her other hand joining his as she held onto him tightly.
“You’ve carried a lot,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “I can see it in the way you hold yourself, the way you don’t talk about the past unless someone pulls it out of you. But you don’t have to keep carrying it alone, Logan.”
He huffed a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. “Not sure I know how to let it go.”
Her thumb brushed against the edge of his knuckle. “Maybe you don’t have to let it go completely. Maybe just... sharing it is enough. Like you just did.”
Logan’s eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, he looked as though he might argue. But then, his shoulders dropped, the tension easing from his frame. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” she admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “But I think we’re both learning that together.”
Logan leaned back slightly, his hand still lingering on hers. “You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for. Most people wouldn’t have come back from what you’ve been through.”
“Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I still feel like I’m figuring it out, one step at a time. And that’s why this... whatever this is between us... scares me.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting into something gentler, something she hadn’t often seen. “It scares me too,” he admitted. “But not because I don’t want it. Because I do. More than I’ve let myself want anything in a long time.”
Her breath caught, the honesty in his words stirring something deep in her chest.
“Logan,” she began, her voice trembling, “if we do this... I need you to know that I’m still… a little broken, still figuring out how to trust myself, let alone someone else. But I’m trying.”
He nodded, his gaze steady. “I know.”
The weight of his words settled between them, a quiet reassurance that felt like a balm to her still-healing heart.
“I want to take this slow,” she said, her voice steadier now. “But I also don’t want to keep pretending this isn’t real. Because it is. And it’s starting to feel like the best thing I’ve found in a long time.”
Logan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried a weight of its own. “Then let’s stop pretending,” he said. “I don’t need promises or guarantees. I just need to know we’re in this together.”
Her chest tightened, the simplicity of his words hitting harder than any grand declaration ever could. “Together,” she echoed, a small, tentative smile breaking through.
Logan leaned forward, his hand brushing against hers again as his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Would you let me take you out? A real date. Just the two of us. No chores, no firewood deliveries. Something... normal.”
Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound lightening the air between them. “Normal might be a stretch for us,” she teased, her smile widening. “But I’d like that.”
“Good,” he said simply, though the faintest hint of relief flickered across his features.
The following days passed in a haze of quiet anticipation. Every stolen glance and lingering touch between them carried an unspoken promise, building up to the night Logan had planned. Evelyn found herself worrying over details she hadn’t given much thought to in years—what to wear, how to fix her hair, whether she should wear lipstick or keep it natural.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, she was standing in front of her mirror, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just something simple that made her feel a little more like herself.
The soft rumble of Logan’s truck outside snapped her out of her thoughts. Peeking through the curtain, she caught sight of him stepping out, a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched awkwardly in his hand. Her chest tightened at the sight—a quiet, thoughtful gesture that felt entirely him.
By the time she opened the door, her smile was already wide, though the sight of him standing on her porch, looking both rugged and nervous, made her heart skip. His usual flannel shirt had been swapped for a clean button-down, and though he still wore his work boots, there was an effort in his appearance that made her heart flutter.
“These are for you,” he said, holding out the flowers. His tone was gruff, but the faint dusting of color on his cheeks betrayed him.
Evelyn smiled, taking the bouquet with gentle hands. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
Logan gave a small nod, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You look nice.”
Her cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, stepping aside to let her lock up the cottage. “Ready?”
She nodded, locking the door behind her before following him to the truck.
The drive into town was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. The low hum of the engine filled the space between them, punctuated by the occasional comment about the scenery or the faint tunes playing from the radio.
He pulled into the lot of a cozy little diner on the edge of town, its soft neon sign casting a warm glow across the gravel. Evelyn glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Didn’t want to go too far,” Logan said, turning off the engine. “Figured we’d keep it simple.”
Inside, the atmosphere was exactly what she’d hoped for—quiet, intimate, with just a handful of locals scattered at the booths. A few familiar faces turned their way, offering polite nods and smiles, but no one approached. The quiet approval in their expressions warmed her.
Logan led her to a booth near the window, the small vase of flowers at the center of the table adding to the charm of the place. As they settled in, the waitress—a cheerful woman named Rose—greeted them with a knowing smile but kept her comments to herself.
“Evening, Logan. Evelyn,” Rose said, her tone warm but professional. “What can I get you two tonight?”
Logan glanced at her. “Ladies first.”
Evelyn scanned the menu quickly before ordering something light, and Logan followed suit. As Rose walked away, Logan leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as it settled on her. “You’ve been quiet.”
She met his eyes, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Just... taking it all in. It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this.”
Logan nodded, his thumb idly tracing the edge of the table. “Same here.”
The simplicity of his response made her chest tighten. It wasn’t just the date—it was the way he made her feel seen without trying too hard, the way his presence felt grounding in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.
As the night went on, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything and nothing—their favorite books, small-town quirks, and plans for the cottage renovations. When the food arrived, they ate slowly, savoring both the meal and the company.
There was something intimate about the way Logan watched her, his gaze steady and unguarded, as though he were memorizing every detail of the moment.
By the time they finished their meal, Evelyn couldn’t stop smiling. Logan had a dry wit she hadn’t expected, and she found herself laughing more often than she had in months.
After dinner, Logan suggested taking a walk. The cool night air nipped at their skin as they strolled along the quiet street, the faint glow of the diner’s sign fading into the distance.
“Thank you,” Evelyn said softly, breaking the silence.
Logan glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”
“This,” she replied, gesturing to the flowers tucked under her arm and the night around them.
Logan stopped, his hand brushing against hers as he turned to face her fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said, his voice low. “But I’ll keep doing it, if it means seeing you smile like that.”
Her breath caught at the sincerity in his tone, her chest tightening with emotion. Without thinking, she stepped closer, her hand reaching for his.
Logan’s fingers closed around hers, warm and steady. “You sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Evelyn nodded, her lips curving into a soft, trembling smile. “I’m sure.”
The kiss was slow, unhurried—a quiet promise exchanged under the soft glow of the streetlights. When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her heart racing in her chest.
Logan smirked faintly, his hand lingering at her waist. “That felt pretty normal.”
She laughed, the sound light and free. “Maybe normal’s not so bad after all.”
The night ended with Logan walking her to the truck, his hand resting lightly on her back. As they drove home, the silence between them was filled with a warmth that needed no words.
She met his gaze, her smile widening slightly as a playful glint sparkled in her eyes. “Actually...” she began, her tone teasing, “do you want to come in for a bit? I baked a pie.”
Logan raised a brow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Pie, huh?”
She nodded, opening the door and stepping inside.
The scent of cinnamon and apples lingered in the warm air of the cottage, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. Logan leaned against the counter, watching as Evelyn cut two generous slices of pie. She worked with practiced ease, her movements confident but relaxed, and he couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered on her.
“Alright,” she said, turning with two plates in hand. “Moment of truth.”
He accepted the plate, settling onto the couch as she joined him. The first bite was warm and perfectly spiced, and Logan huffed a quiet laugh as he set his fork down. “I’m starting to think you undersold it.”
“See?” she said, her smile triumphant. “I told you it was the best.”
The easy banter filled the room as they finished their dessert, the warmth between them growing as the evening stretched on. When the plates were set aside, they moved to the living room, the firelight casting soft, flickering shadows around them.
Logan leaned back in his chair, watching her as she adjusted the throw pillows on the couch. “You always this competitive about pie?”
“Only when it’s deserved,” she shot back, her grin widening as she sank onto the cushions.
His gaze softened, the humor in his expression giving way to something quieter, something that made her chest tighten. She could feel the weight of his attention, the way it seemed to ground her even as it sent her heart racing.
“You’re staring,” she said, her voice light but slightly breathless.
“You make it hard to look elsewhere,”he replied, his voice low.
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension crackling like the fire behind them.
Then, almost as if drawn by the same invisible force, they leaned in. Her hand found its way to his chest, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt, while his hands settled on her waist, pulling her just slightly closer.
The kiss began slow, tentative, but quickly deepened, fueled by a growing need neither of them could deny. Logan's hands tightened at her sides as her fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him closer, deeper, until the space between them all but vanished.
The world outside blurred into insignificance—the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his touch and the way his lips moved against hers, each kiss igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.
When she shifted, pressing closer, Logan responded instinctively, his arms circling her waist as she climbed into his lap. Her thighs framed him, and for a brief moment, his hands hovered at her sides, a flicker of hesitation in the way he held her. But the tension melted as her lips found his again, her kiss pulling him under like a tide he had no desire to fight.
Their breaths mingled, ragged and uneven, as the kiss grew more intense, her fingers gripping his shoulders for balance. But then, as though tethered by some unspoken understanding, they pulled apart, both struggling to catch their breath.
Foreheads resting together, Logan's low chuckle broke the charged silence. “This taking it slow thing... it’s not going to be easy.”
Her lips curved into a teasing smile, her voice warm and soft. “Nobody said it would be.”
Logan brushed his thumb along her side, his gaze steady but laced with something deeper, something that made her stomach flutter. “You’re testing my limits, you know.”
Her laughter softened the air between them, light and teasing. “You’re the one who said patience was important, remember?”
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his hand sliding from her side to rest against her back. “I’m starting to think I overestimated my resolve.”
She leaned into him slightly, her hands still resting on his chest. “Well, I’m not exactly making it easy for myself either.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Logan’s gaze remained fixed on hers, the intensity in his eyes enough to make her breath hitch.
“Just say the word,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “If you want me to stop, if this is too much, I will.”
Her fingers tightened against his chest as she shook her head. “I don’t want you to stop,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... don’t want to rush this.”
Logan nodded, his thumb brushing against her back in a slow, soothing motion. “Then we won’t.”
The weight of his words settled between them, grounding her in a way that eased the swirling doubts in her mind. She let herself relax, her forehead brushing against his as she closed her eyes.
“You make me feel safe,” she murmured, the admission surprising even herself.
Logan’s arms tightened around her, his voice a quiet rumble against her ear. “That’s all I want for you.”
They stayed like that for a while, the intensity of the earlier moment giving way to a quiet intimacy that felt just as profound. The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting a gentle light over their intertwined hands. Logan's thumb brushed lazily against hers, a silent rhythm that lulled them both into a state of contentment.
Eventually, Evelyn shifted, sliding off his lap but staying tucked close against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm draped around her, holding her there as the quiet of the room settled over them like a blanket.
Minutes stretched into an hour, and before long, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his presence pulled them into a light doze.
The sharp ring of the landline shattered the stillness, jolting Evelyn awake. She blinked groggily, her head lifting from Logan’s shoulder as the sound persisted.
“You should get that,” Logan murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
She glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “It’s probably nothing important.”
Logan smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Might be worth checking. I’ll start the fire again while you’re on the phone.”
Reluctantly, she slipped from the couch, rubbing her eyes as she crossed the room to answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Evelyn!” Martha’s familiar voice burst through the receiver, warm and full of energy. “I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth. How are you?”
A sleepy smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips. “Hi, Martha. I’m fine, just... caught off guard by the timing.”
“Well, excuse me for being an early riser,” Martha teased, her voice light but laced with curiosity. “So, are you going to tell me what’s new, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
Before Evelyn could respond, Logan appeared in the doorway, his boots on and his jacket slung over one arm. He nodded toward the phone, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Take your time,” he mouthed.
She covered the receiver with her hand. “You’re leaving?”
“Work won’t wait,” he said softly, stepping closer. He bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple before straightening. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” she whispered, her heart fluttering as she watched him leave. The sound of the door closing behind him was followed by the rumble of his truck starting up in the driveway.
“Hello? Evelyn? You still there?” Martha’s voice snapped her back to the conversation.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, sinking onto the edge of the couch.
“And who was that?” Martha asked, her tone playful and suspicious.
Evelyn hesitated for a moment, her lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Logan.”
“Logan,” Martha repeated slowly, dragging out the name. “Care to elaborate?”
Taking a deep breath, Evelyn launched into the story. She told Martha about the date, the way Logan had shown up with flowers, and the quiet sweetness of the evening. Her cheeks flushed as she recounted the makeout session, her voice dropping as she admitted how intense and vulnerable the moment had been.
“So let me get this straight,” Martha said after a pause. “You had an amazing date, made out like teenagers, and then cuddled by the fire until the phone woke you up?”
“Pretty much,” Evelyn admitted, laughing softly.
“That’s not just romance. That’s the start of a love story.”
Evelyn shook her head, though her smile lingered. “We’re still figuring things out. Taking it slow.”
“Slow or not, he sounds like a keeper,” Martha said firmly. “And you deserve that, Evelyn. You deserve someone who makes you feel safe and loved. Don’t overthink it—just let it happen.”
Her chest tightened at her friend’s words, the quiet weight of her fears loosening just slightly. “Thanks, Martha. I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime,” Martha replied warmly. “Now, promise me you’ll call and update me after your next date. I want every detail.”
Evelyn laughed again, the sound lighter than it had been in a long time. “I promise.”
As the call ended, she set the receiver down and leaned back against the couch, her mind drifting to Logan. The warmth he brought into her life wasn’t something she’d expected, but it was something she was slowly learning to embrace.
Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something she could finally believe in.
At the logging site, the crisp morning air carried the faint tang of pine and freshly cut wood. Logan worked steadily, his ax swinging with precise, deliberate movements as the rhythm of chopping logs drowned out the hum of his thoughts. His muscles strained against the familiar weight, but it wasn’t the work keeping him on edge. His mind was still back at Evelyn’s cottage, replaying the softness of her lips and the way she’d leaned against him before they both drifted to sleep.
The peaceful monotony of his morning was short-lived.
“Morning, Howlett!” Rick’s voice rang out, cutting through the sounds of work. He strolled over with an exaggerated grin, clearly on a mission.“How’s the love life, huh?”
Logan shot him a warning glance but kept working, driving his ax into the log in front of him with a sharp thwack.
“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Rick continued, undeterred. “You gotta give us something here. Nancy’s been running her mouth all morning about how she spotted you and Evelyn at the diner last night. Real cozy, she said. Practically glowing, the both of you.”
Logan set the ax down and leaned on the handle, his brow furrowing as he glanced at Rick. “You talk to Nancy too much.”
“And you talk to Nancy too little,” Rick shot back, crossing his arms. “She’s got all the juicy details. Says you even brought flowers. Flowers, Logan. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Neither did I,” muttered Pete, an older logger who had wandered over, clearly intrigued by the commotion. He wiped his hands on a rag and gave Logan a knowing grin. “So, what’s the story? You finally settle down, or are we gonna have to wait another decade for you to bring her to the Christmas party?”
A ripple of laughter passed through the nearby workers who had paused to eavesdrop. Logan straightened, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You lot don’t have enough to do?” he asked dryly, his gaze sweeping over the group.
“Plenty to do,” Rick said, leaning casually on a stack of logs. “But none of it’s half as entertaining as you going soft on us.”
Logan exhaled sharply, turning back to the pile of wood. “I’m not going soft.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” Pete said with a chuckle. “Flowers, a nice dinner, walking her to the door. Real tough stuff, Howlett.”
There was another round of laughter, but this time Logan smirked faintly as he picked up another log. “You’re all idiots.”
“Idiots who care,” Rick quipped, his grin widening. “Seriously though, Logan. She seems good for you. And Lord knows you’ve been less of a grump lately.”
Logan hesitated, his hands tightening around the ax handle. He didn’t look up, but his voice was quieter when he finally spoke. “She is good for me.”
The sudden sincerity in his tone caught the others off guard, silencing their teasing. Even Rick, who thrived on poking fun, softened slightly.
“Well, damn,” Pete said, scratching the back of his head. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained focused on the task in front of him. “Guess miracles happen.”
Rick nudged Pete with his elbow, his grin returning. “Alright, boys. Let Romeo here finish chopping wood in peace.”
Logan shook his head, swinging the ax with a precision that sent the log splitting cleanly in two. The others drifted back to their tasks, though not without the occasional sly glance in his direction.
As the chatter faded, Logan allowed himself a moment to pause. The teasing didn’t bother him as much as he’d expected. If anything, it felt... good. Like he was part of something bigger again, not just a lone wolf wandering through the shadows.
He picked up the next log, his thoughts drifting back to Evelyn. The way her laughter had filled the diner, the warmth of her hand in his, the feeling of her curled against him on the couch—all of it had settled into him like a quiet revelation.
“Hey, Howlett,” Rick called out as he passed by, his tone lighter now. “So, you bringing her to the town fair next month?” Rick pressed, his grin practically audible. “Could be a real romantic date, you know.”
Logan didn’t even pause this time, his ax slicing cleanly through the log with a sharp crack. “Might,” he said, his tone calm but carrying a hint of something wry. He glanced up briefly, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If the missus wants to.”
The sudden quiet that followed was almost comical. Rick’s mouth opened slightly, a mixture of surprise and delight lighting up his face.
“Well, hell,” Rick finally managed, breaking into a laugh. “The missus, huh? You’re really in it now, Howlett.”
Pete, who had been stacking logs nearby, barked out a laugh. “Didn’t think I’d hear that from you, Logan. Town fair’s gonna be real interesting this year.”
Logan shook his head, turning back to his work as if the conversation didn’t faze him. “You gonna keep talking, or actually get something done today?”
“Talking’s more fun,” Rick shot back, leaning on his ax. “But seriously, Logan—if you show up at that fair with her, you better believe you’ll be the talk of the town.”
Logan chuckled softly, his tone low and amused as he reached for another log. “Guess I’ll have to give ’em something to talk about, then.”
The teasing carried on a bit longer, but Logan barely noticed, his focus already drifting elsewhere. The thought of taking Evelyn to the fair, of walking with her through the bustling stalls and hearing her laughter as she teased him about some silly game or trinket, settled into his chest with surprising ease.
For a man who had spent so long avoiding entanglements, the idea didn’t scare him as much as he thought it might. Instead, it felt... right.
As the day wore on, the teasing eventually died down, replaced by the rhythmic sounds of axes splitting wood and logs being stacked. Logan kept working, his movements steady and deliberate, but his thoughts drifted back to Evelyn.
By the time the sun began its descent, casting the forest in hues of gold and amber, Logan’s truck rumbled back into the driveway of the cottage. He parked and stepped out, catching sight of Evelyn on the porch with a cup of tea in her hands. She smiled when she saw him, and that simple expression—warm and unguarded—was enough to ease the tension of the day.
“Busy day?” she called out as he approached.
“Could say that,” he replied, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Might’ve heard some rumors about us, though.”
“Oh?” she said, tilting her head, her tone teasing. “Anything interesting?”
Logan stopped in front of her, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity that made her breath catch. “Nothing you don’t already know,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.
Evelyn felt her cheeks flush, but she held his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I hope you defended my honor,” she teased lightly.
“Did my best,” Logan replied, stepping onto the porch and reaching for her hand. His rough fingers brushed hers, a small but grounding touch that felt more natural with each passing day.
The two of them settled into the evening with the ease of a couple finding their rhythm, the unspoken understanding between them deepening with every glance, every small gesture.
For Logan, it wasn’t just about the companionship or the warmth of her presence. It was the way she let him in, piece by piece, and how it made him want to do the same.
For Evelyn, it was the steady reassurance he brought, a quiet promise that she wasn’t alone in this anymore.
And as they sat together on the porch, watching the last light of the day fade into dusk, they both knew that whatever came next, they’d face it together.
Chapter 5
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size difference kink but in the “i grew up being made fun of for being chubby so now the idea of a giant of a man being able to toss me around and tower over me without making my weight a problem makes me really horny” way, you get what im saying?
crossed lines (p. 2)
logan howlett x f!reader
A/N: it's finally here! i hope you enjoy and just know that all questions will be answered soon...
warnings: hangover, paranoia, violence towards character(s), descriptions of blood and injuries, angst
wc: 4.2k+
part one
“Stupid, stupid, stupid floozy,” you muttered to yourself as walked down to the kitchen the following morning. Your head was pounding, your stomach was twisting, and your mind was tormenting you with blurry images from the night before. Flashes of Logan’s face centimeters from your own, his rough hands grabbing your body, and his darkened eyes were on an endless loop in your head. The more you thought about how you threw yourself at him, the more you felt embarrassed.
You and Logan had been getting closer and closer to each other since you and Remy came to this school for gifted youngsters. It was pretty obvious that you were attracted to each other, but you didn’t think you would be mounting the man after a couple of drinks. It wasn’t like you to drink much, given what had happened back in New Orleans, but you thought you would have had better control over yourself.
As you shuffle into the kitchen, you immediately grab a glass of water and chug. You could practically feel your organs screaming in joy as the water makes its way down your throat. Another mistake from last night: not having any water in between your drinks. As you go to refill your cup from the fridge’s dispenser, the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly berates your ears. You look up quickly and see none other than Remy sitting in the breakfast nook, looking at you with a knowing smirk on his face.
“I’m surprised you are still walking, chere,” your friend quipped before taking a bite of his breakfast. “I didn’t peg the Wolverine as someone who would let his trysts leave his bed in one piece.”
“Remy, shut up,” you hissed. Your throbbing headache seemed to be lessening slightly, but you knew the conversation you were about to have would make it flare up again. “Nothing happened with Logan.”
“Really? Nothing happened? That’s hard to believe after seeing you two leave the bar all friendly and such last night,” he chuckled while scooting over to make room for you.
You grabbed an apple out of one of the fruit bowls before going to sit down. Your body slumped into the seat and you hung your head for a moment before looking up at Remy. “Well, some things happened, but not what you think.” You took another generous sip from your cup before turning to face the Cajun next to you. “When we got back we… had a moment in the garage.”
“A moment, you say?”
A glare crosses your face and you can feel Remy shake with contained laughter next to you. “Yeah, but it was short lived. Ororo kind of walked in on us and pulled him away for a mission or something.”
Remy practically howled with laughter and clutched his sides at the grumpy look on your face. You jabbed him with your elbow harshly before taking a bite of your apple and trying to collect yourself.
“You always did have unfortunate timing,” Remy chuckled as he began to regain his breath. “Remember that one time that I walked in on you and that paramedic back at Shakers?”
“That was ages ago, Remy,” you defended yourself. “Plus, you know I don’t make the best decisions when I’m under the influence.” A pit formed in your stomach as your mind threatened to bring you back to that dingy bar in New Orleans where it all happened.
Remy immediately dropped his happy mood and gave you a serious look. “Chere, that’s not true. You can’t let one accident rule your life. There was more going on than just the alcohol and what happened had nothing to do with you or your decisions.”
You averted your gaze from your friend and looked down at your almost empty cup. “Remy, the whole reason why we fled Louisiana was because of me.”
“No,” he said sharply. “We left because of my mistakes. They would have run us out of town regardless of what way shit went down.”
You nodded your head somberly. Thinking about Louisiana was enough to make you lose what little appetite you had left. The unsettled business that you and Remy ran from was still searching for you both and you knew that it was only a matter of time before they caught up with you. That’s why you and Remy had specifically hauled ass to Westchester, New York to see if you could seek a helping hand from Charles Xavier. You hadn’t expected yourself to be drawn to someone while you were actively fleeing, but life always had a funny way of giving you more than you thought you could handle.
“What about you and Marie?” you questioned, trying to change the topic and get your mind off the ghosts of your past. “Did you finally make a move last night?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out, chere,” he teased. “I don’t have a habit of kissing and telling, unlike someone I know.”
You gave a dry laugh and shook your head. “Yeah, yeah. Remind me never to share anything that happens with you ever again.”
Remy laughed and gave your shoulder a squeeze before sliding out of the booth. “I’m going down to the Danger Room with Marie while everyone is out,” he said. “What are you going to do today?”
Shrugging your shoulders, you looked up at your friend. “I’ll probably go buy something for my hangover and then rot in bed all day.”
“Alright, just don’t rot for too long, pistache,” he said before patting your head and leaving the room.
You huffed and dropped your head between your shoulders, taking a deep breath before getting up to head to your room. Trudging to your room, your mind slipped back to the man who was entertaining your thoughts recently. You had overexamined everything that happened last night, but your brain still wouldn’t move on. But how could you?
Logan was strong, tall, masculine, and above all, ruggedly handsome. No one had turned your head like he did. His dark brown locks that always had tufts looked so inviting and you always had to restrain yourself from touching them without permission. His piercing green eyes were enough to put you in your grave, especially when they were focused on you. The muscles in his arms, torso, back, and legs had you foaming at the mouth with need every time you caught them flexing under his flannels and white tank tops or his jeans. And the few times you caught him almost smiling? It was like Cupid walked straight through your heart with an arrow that had Logan’s name all over it. The brooding and mysterious vibe that always seemed to hang around him was not much of a help to your cause, either. Plus, in the last few weeks, he always seemed to be lurking where you were. You weren’t complaining, though.
Walking into your room, you went straight to your closet and changed into some sweatpants and an oversized sweater, deciding you didn’t need to dress nice for the 15-minute walk to the closest convenience store. Your eyes landed on your pile of clothes that you wore last night as you started to leave your room. The rumpled clothes brought visions of last night rushing back to you. It was pathetic how your body started to buzz at just the memory of his touches from last night.
You averted your gaze and left your room as your headache came back in full force. You needed to get yourself together before you could begin to untangle the thoughts and feelings you had surrounding The Wolverine.
About half an hour later, you were out at the nearest convenience store, buying some ibuprofen for yourself and some other small things, like Pedialyte and some Twizzlers to help cure your hangover. You had just checked out and were about to leave the store when a certain face caught your attention from the corner of your vision. Your heartbeat stopped in your chest, your breathing became shallow, and your palms began to sweat. Fear took hold of your body as you slowly turned towards the familiar face.
But when you were fully facing the person, you realized that your mind had been playing tricks on you. The face didn’t belong to a ghost from your past; instead, it belonged to a man in his mid-30s who looked like your everyday, run of the mill guy. You let out a shaky breath and left the store to start your walk back to the mansion.
Since breakfast this morning, you have felt completely off. Your mind was a mess trying to juggle the situation with Logan, the memories of your past, and your current hangover. To say you were distracted would be an understatement. As you approached the estate, you felt like you were being watched.
You cautiously looked over your shoulder and saw the man from the store walking behind you, making you freeze on the spot. The man gave you a smile and wave before jogging up to you. Before you could register that you should head inside quickly, the man approached you holding up what appeared to be a credit card.
“Hi, ma’am. I think you left this back at the store,” he said, extending the card out towards you. You looked at the card and then back up at the man before taking a small step back. Your hands started to tremble and you swore you could feel ice start to make its way through your veins.
“Um, thank you, but I don’t remember using a card at the register,” you said. Credit cards were the first thing Remy made you ditch when you left New Orleans. Paper trails were never something you wanted following you when you were on the run. “That must be someone else’s card.”
“Oh,” the man said looking down at the card. He turned it over in his hand before it disappeared from his grip. You blinked rapidly, not believing what you just saw. As you looked back up at the man, you felt the bag in your hand slip to the gravel driveway.
He was suddenly much closer to you and his face had changed.
Standing before you was a man with long, greasy black hair, pale skin, beady eyes, and a sadistic smirk curling on his mutilated lips. Your heartbeat sped up as you recognized the man standing before you from the scars running across his cheek bone and mouth. You had been the one who gave him those scars.
“I know that, chere,” he sneered at you, stepping forward menacingly. “I just wanted an excuse to follow you and find your friend. You’ve been hiding for a while.” He extended his pointer finger, brought it to your cheek and traced the spot that mirrored where his own scars were.
Something in you snapped the moment his finger touched your cheek. Your feet turned around and you bolted for the entrance of the mansion that was further down the drive than you remember it being before. Even though your feet ran to move you forwards, the mansion kept moving further and further from you. You kept pushing forward even though nothing you were experiencing made any sense to you. Your lungs were burning, your muscles were screaming at you, and your skin was profusely sweating.
Your mind went to Remy and raced trying to think of ways to warn him that your covers were blown. You didn’t know where you would go next or what you would do, let alone how you were going to get out of this current situation.
“It’s cute really,” you heard the man’s voice whisper in your ear.
You whipped your head around as you continued to run, but you couldn’t see him anywhere around you. The fear in your body started to turn into paranoia now that your senses were confusing you.
“He keeps you as his little pet, does he?”
This time his voice sounded further away. Your eyes scanned the grounds in front of you, but he was nowhere to be seen. As you were frantically looking around, you didn’t notice how the mansion rapidly got closer to you until your feet were tripping on the stairs that lead up to the main entrance. Your body fell forward. In an attempt to save yourself from harm, you threw your hands forward, but you were too slow and instead of your hands breaking your fall, your forehead colliding with one of the stone steps caught all your weight.
Your head, which was already pounding from your hangover, exploded in pain and your vision was clouded with blurry images, stars, and spots of darkness. Your body slumped to the ground and you couldn’t find the strength to push yourself up from your position. A large hand grabbed your left shoulder and tossed you over so you were laying on your back, looking up at the sky and the body looming over you. It was impossible to make out the features of the man above you from the way your vision swam, but you didn’t need to have 20/20 vision to know that he was leering down at you.
“You know what happens to pets who hurt someone?” His hand harshly gripped the hair at the base of your head and yanked your body up to his height. Your world spun and you fought off a wave of nausea as your body rose through the air. The nails of his fingers dug into your scalp and you threw your hands up to grab at his arm and try to pull it off. It was no use as he was much stronger than you were at the moment.
The man turned your head to the side and you felt his grip tighten as he brought your ear up to his lips. “We put them down,” he spat before chuckling in a menacing tone.
Before you could utter out a plea for your life, he turned your head towards the ground and drove your head down towards the steps. The bridge of your nose cracked at the pressure of colliding with the stone steps and everything went black.
The mission had been a distraction. Charles had sent the team to track down a faction of rouge mutants who were looking to break into an old laboratory where the government used to manufacture horrible concoctions; The Mutant Cure being the worst. When the Blackbird touched down outside of the supposed facility, the professor turned away from the control panels at the front to face the X-Men with a grave look on his face.
“I’ve made a mistake,” he whispered with a far away look in his eyes.
Logan, Jean, Scott, and Ororo exchanged looks of concern before returning their attention to Charles.
“What do you mean, Professor?” Ororo questioned.
“There’s nothing here,” he clarified. He seemed to be combing through something in his mind, or at least that’s what Logan assumed he was doing when his eyes searched the cabin for something that no one else could see. Charles didn’t say anything more, but the storm brewing in his eyes told Logan that something was wrong.
“Shall we still do a sweep?” Scott proposed, stepping into his leader-persona.
“I’m not so sure that would be a good idea, Scott,” Charles replied.
Logan kept a close eye on the professor as he swiveled around in his chair to face the front of the Blackbird. He sat there for a moment or two before his posture became ridged and alert. Charles looked over his shoulder at the group with widened eyes.
“I can’t hear anyone at the school,” he said.
The entire group moved closer to Charles with alarmed and confused looks on their faces. Jean bent down next to him, no doubt searching Charles’s mind to see for herself. Scott kept forming fists and tensing his muscles to Logan’s right, and to his left, Ororo was rendered motionless with an utterly confused look on her face.
“What do you mean, Chuck?” Logan pressed, needing clarification to what was just dropped in their laps.
“It’s like the school is being hidden from me,” he said, looking up to his newest pupil.
Logan’s brow pulled together as his mind raced to the school. Charles, perhaps one of the strongest mutants he has ever met, couldn’t hear anyone at the school? Not any of the other X-Men? The students? Not even your annoying friend, or more importantly, you?
“Then we need to head back,” Scott said, moving to sit in his seat in the cockpit.
“Yes,” the professor agreed. At his confirmation, Jean, Ororo, and Logan quickly moved to their seats and strapped in as Scott started to get the Blackbird moving.
Logan’s thoughts immediately went to you. He found himself remembering the events of last night; the way your soft skin felt underneath his calloused hands, the sound of your pleas for more, the way your body seemed to wrap around his like it was meant to. The memories were cut off after a moment and replaced by increasingly alarming thoughts as he watched the professor clench and unclench his fist in his chair while moving his head around like he was searching for something that only he could see. Or in this case: couldn’t see.
This was the first time that Logan could see Charles in obvious distress. It made his own nerves feel like they were on the edge seeing the powerful mutant rendered powerless in this instance.
Logan closed his eyes and did his best to fight off all the horrible thoughts that were rushing around his brain. His mind conjured up images of the possible mess that they were heading towards. He could see students fleeing, the mansion crumbling, and you running with a frantic look on your face. Even though he tried his hardest to push the images and thoughts from his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the worst possible outcomes and you seemed to be at the center of all of them.
Half an hour later, the grounds of the school were visible from the Blackbird. There was no obvious damage to be seen from this height and distance and while that should have relaxed Logan a little bit, he felt himself tense in his seat as the metallic scent of blood ran across his nose.
Something was definitely wrong.
The Blackbird landed in the back of the school and Logan immediately ran off of the jet with Ororo, Jean, and Scott right behind him, and Charles following suit in his chair. As the group ran towards the mansion, they could see things that weren’t visible from the areal view of the Blackbird.
A few windows were broken, the door that lead out to the court yards was hanging crookedly on its hinges, there were small slices in the brick that appeared to be very deep, and there were bloodstains on the concrete.
“What happened?” Ororo inquired under her breath.
Logan paid no mind to the people behind him. His senses were telling him that something very serious had happened here and that he needed to go further into the mansion to get answers. He shoved past the door hanging on its hinges, nearly ripping it off completely, and let his nose and hearing guide him.
The scent of blood was stronger inside. His ears picked up the faint sound of kids crying and hushes from someone below the school. The students must be down there with someone, hiding from whatever happened here.
“Jean, Scott, go to the students. They are in the Danger Room with Hank and Colossus,” Charles said before looking at Logan and Ororo. “You two, sweep the school and make sure there are no threats. I’ll go see if Cerebro is still intact and find whoever did this.”
The X-Men split up quickly, following their orders. Logan and Ororo took different wings of the mansion, trying to find answers to what was wrong.
Logan swept the classrooms and found nothing other than strewn papers and chairs; an obvious sign of a struggle. As Logan walked into the foyer, his nose was flooded with the scent of blood and something familiar, but he couldn’t place it with how much the blood overpowered the other scent. His ears, however, picked up the sound of a heartbeat that was slowly fading and the shallowest breaths he had ever heard. He followed the sound to the front door and slowly opened it, only to be met with one of the worst sights he had ever seen.
You.
Laying in a pool of your own blood on the steps of the mansion.
Your face was bruised, swollen, and covered in your own blood. The cuts on your forehead and nose were gnarly and your skin lacked its usual color, signaling how much blood you had already lost.
“No, no, no,” he said as he took in the sight for a second. He moved towards your form quickly. Logan’s legs crumbled beneath him when he reached your body. He gently maneuvered your limp body so it was resting in his lap as he held you close to him. He brushed a few strands of hair that were matted in your blood from your face and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. He could feel your blood staining his hands as he did so. “C’mon princess, wake up.”
His plea fell on deaf ears.
Logan gently shook your shoulders and repeated his request, but your eyes didn’t open. Your shallow breaths were becoming less frequent and Logan could feel his heart being stabbed repeatedly with the blunt blade of fear. He couldn’t lose you when he had just gotten a taste of you.
Without hesitating, he lifted you up in his arms and dashed for the med bay in the basement of the school. Jean was down there and so was Hank. They could help you more than he could himself right now. Logan ignored the part of him that was seething in anger that he couldn’t help. This wasn’t the time or place to lose it. Not when he had to get you to those who were able to actually help you.
Ororo rounded the corner of the hallway right as Logan made it to the elevator with you in his arms. The sharp gasp that came Ororo didn’t register with him, as his sole focus was getting to the med bay as fast as possible. His co-worker and teammate rushed over and hit the button repeatedly, as if that would call the elevator faster.
The doors opened after a few seconds and the two wasted no time loading in, closing the doors, and descending. The ride down to the basement felt like it took ages. He looked down at your weak form in his arms. You hardly resembled yourself with the way your face was swelling from the trauma inflicted upon you. It made Logan’s stomach roll and he had to look away from your face in order to keep himself on task. If he continued to look at you, he didn’t know if he would break or if he would snap and seek vengeance.
When the elevator opened on the basement floor, Logan quickly made his way to the medical bay while bellowing for Hank and Jean, the sound echoing throughout the entire basement.
Hank appeared first. The moment that he saw your condition, he froze in his spot. Logan looked at his acquaintance and let a growl come out of his chest. The sound of the Wolverine’s growl made Hank snap out of his stupor and hustle to the bed in the middle of the room.
“Quick, put her down,” Hank instructed Logan. “We need to get a transfusion going and close the wounds. It looks like we don’t have much time.”
Logan carefully placed your unconscious body on top of the bed. Hank was by his side instantly, cutting your tattered clothes away so he could see the extent of your wounds. As soon as the sweater you were wearing was cut open, the two men saw dark splotches on your torso. It looked like you had been beaten, kicked, and trampled over and over. Logan could feel bile creeping up the back of his throat as he took in the sight of your mangled body. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been the picture of temptation itself with your short skirt and tight top, rubbing your body against his in one of the most delicious ways possible.
And now, you were hanging on to your life by a thread.
All the tension that had been building up inside of Logan – from the moment he had felt your foot touch his leg last night, up until this very moment of seeing your body be hooked up to machines via wire probes and needles by a slightly frantic Jean who had entered at some point unknown to him – suddenly came to a head and his mind was focused on one thing.
Seeking out who ever had done this to you and delivering a far worse fate with his adamantium claws.
a/n: there will likely be two more parts to this story! and let me know if you wish to be added/dropped from the tag list! thanks so much for reading xx
tags: @mybel0vedliza, @sydneyyyya, @specialsnowflake-gabbi, @siriuslyanerd1025, @geekrenaissance, @spookyfunhottub, @wereallmadherebabez, @aahjajahah, @steffie2801, @sam-san-sam, @lei-a-aa, @qardasngan, @mrs-toasty-bunsjr, @scyllaina, @coco177, @lovelyvaderx, @yeeterboi420, @ra0it, @whoregonzola, @gh0staura, @vampmae, @fairlyfatale, @cottonheartxoxo, @oatmeal-in-the-water, @maddiedinosaur, @logansbacksweat, @isabody, @thickynicky547, @wqlverines, @that-one-padme-outfit, @angryobservations, @thisnameisoverrated, @tl-c-sugarskulls, @arrtsy-ash, @bel20blog, @kirakirakill, @miss-radiosilence-28, @hs-midnights, @pressedpenn, @speedyvoidlove, @mayaae, @franbow29, @dugiioh, @theinterdimensional-frog, @justkayleighhere, @rebels-rewrite, @hanaloveee, @rosiestalez, @briblogs13, @mmeowwoemm, @babey-fruit-bat, @inedanamelikenow, @ellfucksup, @errythinisblue, @winterthevengeance, @hanahb333, @cyberdva
sorry my perverse desires are confusing should i kill myself should we invite sigmund freud
i knew you freaks would like this one
